


The Wolves of Winterfell

by TheSwordInTheDarkness310



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-12 05:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 37,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12952113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSwordInTheDarkness310/pseuds/TheSwordInTheDarkness310
Summary: Originally posted on Fanfiction. Being posted here in lumps.What if Catelyn never recieves the warning message from Lysa? How will it change it events that follow?





	1. Chapter 1

 

**Note:**

**The story is mostly based on the books, though I have picked up many of the show's plot changes. Hence it is posted under 'Game of Thrones'.**

**As usual, nothing belongs to me.**

**End of the note. Let's go!**

**Chapter 1**

**We have a wolf**

* * *

"You should've seen the look on his face," said Rory. "The King looked like he would rip the first man apart he lays his hand on".

 _'Too bad the Kingslayer wasn't nearby,'_  Pyp couldn't help but think as he marched along with others.  _It would have been fun to see his smug face scraped off._

Rory and Pyp had been man at arms in the Crown army since the Greyjoy rebellion, and were among the Crown's mean who had travelled to Winterfell. They both had been witnesses to the great friendship between Lord Eddard Stark and the King. The two best friends had great respect for Robert Baratheon, their childhood hero, and Ned Stark, the dignity personified.

"But why did the Starks leave," asked Pyp, who still thought the whole thing bizzare as well as curious. He had never thought there could ever be a rift between the two great men(well the King not so much now). After all, they were almost like blood brothers. They grew up together as wards of the Eyrie, fought alongside each other in a great war that destroyed the ruling Targaryen dynasty, and had fought together again nine years ago.

"The prince said the Stark girl and the other boy hit him with sticks, and then set the wolf on him," Rory said, grinning all along. "They could not find the wolf, so the queen asked for the skin of other one."

Pyp swore under his breath. He had no love for the Lannisters at all, and the fact the Joffery was golden haired made it hard for Pyp to think of him as the Crown prince. The spolied brat looked more like the Kingslayer than the King.

"Stark asked the King to spare the wolf," Rory continued, "but he didn't budge. So Stark did the killing himself, then resigned as the Hand, packed his stuff and took everyone back to the North. The Crown prince bested by  _a little girl_! What a sight it must have been." They had already crossed the Gods Eye lake, and were about 200 leagues away from the capital.

"So, the whole King's visit to Winterfell turned out to for nothing," Pyp remarked.

"Aye," replied Rory. "The King isn't even riding. Must be drinking twenty people's wine in that stupid wheelhouse. I bet the Queen must be loving that." Rory threw another grin at him.

"The Starks directly slighted the King by turning back though," Pyp said uncertainly.

"Oh bugger it," Rory laughed. "This isn't the end of their friendship. Remember what happened after the Sack of King's Landing. They got over that. They will live through this too."

"I guess you are right," Pyp said. "I won't worry about it. I bet they both would be cursing themselves for what happened."

They walked in silence for a while, and Pyp spoke again after thinking something, "I think it turned out for the better. I like the Starks, and they don't have a good history in the South."

"Mhmm," Rory nodded. "Cover for me will you. I need to take a piss."

* * *

**Here it is. A very short first chapter to tell what went down at the Trident in this fic. Ned Stark doesn't have a strong motivation to go to King's Landing like he had in the canon.**

**Next chapter will have major characters in it. Please read and review**


	2. Chapter 2

 

**Chapter 2**

**The Way Back**

* * *

 

Ned's mind was burning. Rage twisted like worms in his gut. And the constant rumbling of the carriage wheels behind him wasn't helping. That carriage carried the corpse of wolf he had killed, pet of her sweet child, sigil of his family.

 _And for what, to mend the Queen's pride._  Ned shook his head. The Lion cared about nothing but his own pride, and so do the Lannisters. The memory of the silky voice of the Lannister woman calling for the wolf's death made his spine chill, and at the same time made his blood boil with hatred and rage. No matter how hard he tried not to, he couldn't help but remember the wolf in its final moments, looking at him with those trusting, brown eyes; before _he_ made them blank and hollow.

 _Damn it_. Why did he kill the wolf? If he had enough courage to defy the king, he could've mustered more and took her alive with them.

Sansa refused to speak to him. She was cross with him for killing her wolf and for breaking her betrothal and coming back to the North. Arya remained silent the whole time. Despite his attempts, the news of the murder of the butcher's boy got to her. It was her eighth year, and Sansa was twelve, they didn't deserve to bear this kind of sorrow.

King's Landing was still the same. Filled with liars, flatters and bootlickers. No one said a word against Robert's decision. Only Barristan Selmy fidgeted a little, but he's one of the Kingsguard, sworn to serve. And Robert, he's a completely changed man now. He suspected it when he suggested murdering the Targaryen girl. Now he was certain. But he knew that Robert still loved him, and that Ned loved him too.

He wondered what would've happened if he had gone along with the others to the Capital. He would've been the Hand of the King, the second most powerful man of Westeros, though it was the last thing he wanted. Sansa would've married Joff. Thinking about it made him shudder. He didn't like the look on his face since the time he set his foot in Winterfell. And those golden hair made him look more like a son of the Jaime Lannister than Robert.

A girl's squeal came from behind that brought him out of his thoughts. "Jory! See what's happening behind," he called. That was Arya's voice, he knew for certain.

Jory came back running. "My lord," he said, "it's your daughter Arya, her wolf has returned."

Startled, Ned descended from his horse and went to the back with Jory. There she was, Nymeria, the Rhoynar warrior queen, and Arya sticking to her, crying.

Ned smiled after a long time. He glanced at Sansa, and grimaced when he saw her giving Nymeria a look of contempt.  _She'll come around._  Sansa wasn't happy at all after hearing of her broken betrothal with the crown prince, and believed Nymeria to be the cause of it.

"I am happy for you Arya," Ned told his younger daugher. "You have named her well. She's definitely a fighter. But I think you should feed her something. She might be hungry."

"She must have sniffed you all the way up to here," Jory said, who was grinning despite himself. "After all we drove her towards the North." Arya was crying happy tears. What a pleasant thing for her after losing her friend.

Sansa finally asked him, " Father why are you not punishing her? She's the one who got us in trouble with the Queen and got Lady killed."

Ned replied, "Nymeria was protecting her mistress, just as Lady would've done for you."

"But Arya hurt the prince…"

"That was because he was hurting _him_!" Arya shrieked.

"Why do you care so much about that butcher's boy?"

"Because unlike you, I don't make friends after checking whether or not their boots smell nice."

"Enough you two," the Septa finally bellowed. "Ladies are not supposed to talk this way!"

"Arya, make sure your pet is fed something," Ned finally decided to put an end to the rabble. "After that you'll come ahead and ride with me. We have almost reached the neck now."

Grudgingly the two girls nodded and dispersed, along with Mordane who curtsied and waddled away. Ned regretted his decision to hire the Septa for the girls. He never wanted Sansa to grow up to be so..apathetic, but then again she was just a child. There was still time for her to learn.

But he was as proud of Arya as he can be. She grew up to be a strong and compassionate young lady, just like his late sister.

* * *

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**She Wolves**

* * *

 

The talk with father was short. He asked her to behave and be good to Sansa. Arya loved her father with all her heart, but it was hard for her to put up with her sister and buy into what father was saying.

She can leave behind things like when Sansa never stopped other girls from calling her names, & that she kept giving Arya grief about her 'dirty hair and clothes', & that she liked keeping distance from those she considered lesser than her. But lying to everyone just not to displease 'Prince Joffery', at the cost of someone's life was totally wrong. Thinking about Mycah still made her sick with grief.

 _If only I had not asked him to practice with me, he would still have been alive._  That thought had stolen her appetite for the past 3 days. It was all her fault.

They had camped before entering the Neck at dusk, as it was a long and tedious journey through it. Arya was to share tent with Sansa. She didn't want to be near her right now, not after their little quarrel on the road.

"Nymeria! Come," she called. Faithful as always, her direwolf followed her, watching her with those wide yellow eyes. She walked away from the camp with her, Needle at her side, and sat down beside a weirwood stump. Checking that no one was in sight, she felt safe enough to cry. She sat there beside the tree, sniffing, hating them all, and mostly herself. It was her fault, for everything bad that happened. Nymeria was also sitting near her, wagging her bushy tail; her only companion in grief.

'How could've father betrothed Sansa to such a bad person?' she thought. She remembered all those bad words said by Joffery when he swung his 'Lion Tooth' at her. If he had hit her even once, she would definitely have been cut in half. Still Sansa decided to take Joffery's side. What kind of sister does such a thing.

"Arya, what are you doing there?" Arya looked and saw Father was approaching her. On watching her closely, his face suddenly turned sad and haggard. That saddened her even more. She hated to see father like that. She stood up, and suddenly became aware that she was holding needle in her hand. His eyes went to it. "Whose sword is that?"

"It's mine."

"Yours? Give it to me."

Arya reluctantly handed needle to her father.

"A Bravos Sword," father observed. "Yet I know this maker's mark. This is Mikken's work." He looked at Arya. "This was made in WInterfell. Who gave it to you?"

Arya lowered her eyes. She won't betray Jon, even to her father.

"This is no toy," father said, "and a lady shouldn't play with swords."

"I wasn't playing," Arya pressed. "I don't want to be a lady."

Arya expected father to be angry. But instead he smiled. "What were you hoping to do with it?" he asked.

"It's called needle."

"A blade with a name," father remarked, "and who were you hoping to... skewer with this…Needle? Sansa? Septa Mordane? Do you know the first thing about sword fighting?"

All she could remember was the lesson Jon had given her. "Stick them with the pointy end," she blurted out.

Father snorted. "Yeah that is the essence of it."

Arya rememberd Mycah again. "I was trying to learn," she managed to say and choked. Tears filled her eyes again. "I asked Mycah to practice with me." She couldn't keep it holed up any more. She turned away, shaking. "I asked him," she cried. "It was my fault, it was me…"

Her father took her in his arms. "No, sweet one," he murmured. "You didn't kill the boy. Grieve for him, but never blame yourself. It was the Hound who did it, on the orders of the Queen."

"I hate them," Arya sobbed and she let go of him, "I hate all of them. The Hound and the queen and the king and Prince Joffrey and Sansa."

Father sighed. "Oh Arya, you have that wildness in you, I've seen it before. 'The Wolf Blood' my father used to call it. My brother had it in him, my sister a touch more; which in the end them sent them to an early grave." Father seemed to talking more to himself. "Of course you have it too. You look so much like Lyanna."

"I don't. Lyanna was beautiful."

"You are beautiful too," father smiled at her, "will become more so when you age."

"I am Arya horseface," she wailed.

A dark look crossed on her father's face. "Who told you that?"

"Everyone," she said. Tears were streaming down her face, but she didn't seem to care now. "Sansa, Jeyne Poole, Karla; all of Sansa's friends," she sobbed. "They say that even when Septa Mordane is around."

Father seemed quite angry now, his anger made Arya love him even more. "That's it, I am sending the Septa away. I don't care how much Cat complains. You are my daughters as well."

Arya smiled and rushed to hug her father, not longer crying. Father crossed his arms around her. "Would you like that."

Arya let go of him and gave him a toothy grin. "Send Sansa with her, to King's Landing and Joffrey. Both are vile liars; they are perfect for each other,"

Father looked at her, the grave look back on his face. "Now child, your sister was dragged before the King and was asked to call the prince a liar. She was his betrothed, and she had to stand beside him whether he was right or wrong. Hard times lie ahead of us. You are a Stark of Winterfell. You know our words."

"Winter is Coming," Arya murmured, saying and hearing those words always gave her a chill.

"Yes, always keep those words in mind. Unity gives us strength; we Staks don't fight within ourselves." Father paused, his cold stare never leaving Arya. "When the snow falls and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Dard times lie ahead of us, and it is best for us to stick together."

Arya nodded.

"Sansa is your sister. I want you to make peace with her and be good to her."

Arya nodded again, now thinking hard on how to make peace with Sansa.

"You can keep your needle," father handed needle back to her, "I'll arrange for training in Winterfell. Now go to your tent."

"Yes father," Arya nodded.

* * *

Last night she dreamed that she was married to a handsome prince. They had beautiful babes who were playing in the gardens of the red keep, while she and her husband were watching them in amusement and bliss. Though in the dream, her husband wasn't Joffery.

Sansa was upset, very upset when her father told her that she would't be marrying Joffery. After all, being the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was her dream since she was three. She had shaped her whole life around that dream. Sansa started hating Father for killing her pet and breaking her betrothal She started hating Arya and her wolf Nymeria for hurting the Prince and starting the whole trouble. But while travelling back to the North, the more she thought about the whole thing, the more stupid she felt.

She was in love with the idea of being the Queen. Imagining herself living a life as a queen in a city of knights and wonders made her tummy flutter with joy and excitement. It was that idea which made her fall in love with Joffery as soon as she laid eyes upon him, without even considering what kind of person the prince is. She even refused to notice that it was Joffrey who started the whole thing by hurting the butcher's boy, and later he lied about it to his father. Those were no signs of gallantry. She didn't talk to father for whole three days when he wasn't at fault at all. If he hadn't killed killed Lady, the Queen would have had Ser Illyn kill her and flayed her body.

And the butcher's boy; killed by the Hound for what, playing a game. Sansa felt sick whenever she thought of Mycah's parents; how bad they must have felt when they'd have heard of their son being killed, for no crime at all.

_That was cruel, by far the cruelest thing I've seen._

Perhaps the time being spent away and detatched from him helped Sansa realize that Joffery wasn't the golden prince she imagined her husband to be. It was a hard lesson that made her learn that all that glitters is not gold. There could never a lesson harder than that.

Their journey to Winterfell had stopped due to heavy rain, which had poured all night and till dawn. She was breaking her fast on figs and eggs with Arya and Jeyne,

"So horseface," Jeyne said haughtily to Arya, "broke anyone else's betrothal lately? I heard the hound cut your friend in so many pieces that they had to carry him in a bag. I hope it is true."

Arya's face reddened. Sansa felt something that she had rarely, perhaps never felt. Anger. Anger flared up inside Sansa.

"Do you really," Sansa snapped at her friend. "You can't even stand the sight of a sow being butchered. You really want to imagine a boy being cut to pieces?"

Jeyne looked at Sansa with indignation. "That boy and your Horseface..."

"Don't call her that!" she snapped again at Jeyne, "it wasn't her fault."

Jeyne looked at her, aghast. "Of course it's her fault. Did you see the prince's hand. Her stupid wolf almost tore it apart."

"Stop it Jeyne," suddenly her best friend had started making her sick, "it wasn't her fault, the prince cut the butcher's boy and then swung his sword at Arya. I was there, I saw it myself."

That silenced her. She left shortly afterwards for her own tent. Sansa glanced at Arya, and saw her looking at her with wide eyes.

"What," she asked, even though she was partly aware why she had that look. She had come to know enough about herself to deduce it.

"Nothing," said Arya. They continued eating.

"Sansa," Arya said suddenly.

"What?"

"I'm sorry about Lady. She was good. I liked her a lot too."

Sansa's eyes watered slightly. She missed Lady a lot. "I'm sorry about your friend too. No one deserves that."

Arya nodded. "Want to go outside?" she asked, "There are a lot of big frogs out there. And weirwood stumps too."

Sansa smiled at her sister. "You go Arya, I'll stay here. But ask Father first. Be careful it is damp outside, and come back soon. We're about to leave for Winterfell."

Arya smiled and left the tent.

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

 

Father's raven came as a shock to Winterfell. Although everyone was happy about them coming back, the news about the trouble on the Kingsroad and Lady's death saddened and baffled everyone. Robb and Maester Luwin were busy preparing a huge welcome feast for them. Rickon was so happy that he bounced around the castle all day long.

Bran was happy too, despite his condition. He was not expecting to see father and his sisters for a long, and the raven came as a pleasant surprise for him, even though he felt bad for Sansa's wolf. He was in such a good mood that he was ready to forgive his mother if she arrived with them.

They arrived 5 days after the raven. Father came to see him with Sansa and Arya, Robb and Theon following closely behind. Bran wanted to run and jump straight into his arms, until he realized bitterly he could no longer use his legs. That thought didn't make Bran stop smiling, he won't let anything ruin this moment. Arya ran and launched herself on Bran, and gave him a bone-crushing hug.

"How are you feeling Bran?" his father asked.

"I am feeling all right now," he said.

 

* * *

The feast was held that same night. His family ate quietly on the high table, though the household and soldiers were making a lot of noise. Bran was sitting between Father and Rickon, Sansa, Robb and Maester Luwin sitting on Robb's other side and Rickon sitting with Arya. Bran loved feasts of Winterfell, as everyone looked happy and in their best moods in them. He glances at his family; his father, looking solemnly at his household while eating, Robb, laughing at something said by Sansa; Arya, teaching Rickon how to cut his meat, Maester Luwin, quietly eating his food and fiddling with his chain. Nearly all of his family was back with this point, he started missing his mother terribly again. 'Be strong, you are almost a man grown now!' he told himself, and started distracting himself by eating, which instantly started proving to be a hard task.

The doors of the hall opened and a guard walked in. "Pardon me my lord," he said, "but we have visitors."

"Who is it?" asked father, confused like anyone.

"Lord Howland Reed, with his children Lord Jojen and Lady Meera."

Father immediately stood up. "Let them in," he commanded. That made sense, the Reeds didn't keep any ravens in their castle, hence they couldn't have sent a message of them coming to Winterfell. Bran knew that Lord Howland Reed was a great friend of his father. He had saved his father from Ser Arthur Dayne when they were searching for father's sister Lyanna in the south.

A short man wearing a green attire walked in. His faced looked haggard, which must have been from the long journey from the Greywater Watch, but still he smiled. Behind him stood his children. Jojen Reed must be about Sansa's age. He was short and slim and had unusual deep green eyes.

Meera Reed must be about Robb's age, a woman grown. Her green eyes were not as unusual as her brothers. She was wearing the same attire as her father and brother, which hid any sign of her femininity. She was carrying an unusual spear with three prongs on her one shoulder, Father walked towards the Reeds and stopped in front of them. The Reeds immediately bent their knee.

"My lord, we are at your service," said Howland Reed.

Father pulled him up. "I am having none of that from you," he said, and embraced him in a brotherly hug, both men laughing all the while.

"It's great to be back to this place after such a long time," Lord Howland said, "Ned, allow me to introduce my son and heir, Jojen Reed and my daughter Meera."

"My lords," the two children chorused.

Father nodded at them curtly. "You have come at a great time. Please sit with us and enjoy this feast."

Lord Howland sat beside his father, while his children sat between Arya and Rickon.

"Do you fight with that spear, how do you do it?" Arya asked.

"Well," Meera spoke, "you just try sticking them with the pointy ends."

* * *

"What!" Ned was shocked beyond limits. His reaction was mirrored on the faces of Howland and his daughter. "Who would, why would someone do such thing?"

"Lady Catelyn strongly believed that the Lannister had something to do with it," Theon Greyjoy said, "she took the dagger and went to King's Landing. She thought she would find you there. Ser Rodrick went with her too."

Ned was not sure what to feel. If Cat believed the Lannisters are the culprits then it must be true. But Catelyn won't find him in King's Landing when she reaches there. Where will she find help in that cursed city of liars? And there was no way in hell to contact her and inform her about his location. Ravens won't be able to find her.

"Catelyn will know about you once she reaches the Capital," Howland said, "she will send you a raven hopefully."

"Aye that's all I can hope for now," Ned sighed. "Now let's call it a day and go to our beds."

* * *

He was walking towards the Great Hall when Howland found him. "Ned before we break our fast, can you take me to the crypt. I want to visit them."

Ned nodded solemnly. Together they walked down to the crypt. Howland bowed before his father, Brandon and Lyanna and said prayers.

"Where is the boy," Howland asked, and instantly Ned's chest tightened.

"He joined the Night's Watch."

Howland rounded up on him. "And you let him?"

"It was his choice."

"Why would he choose such a path?"

"You know how it was Howland. Cat didn't like the lad, and the fact that his last name was Snow."

"He is a boy Ned, hungry for love and attention. I suppose your home and hearth weren't able to provide it to him," none of his other bannermen would have the nerve to talk to Ned this way, but Howland Reed was different. "I had told you on that very day we arrived at Riverrun with him. You shouldn't have kept it from your wife."

"And I had told you why I can't. It is too risky."

"The boy deserves way more than a life of driving away wildlings. He is your blood."

"It is done Howland. He has left with Benjen for Castle Black. Let's talk no more about it."

Grudgingly Howland Reed stopped talking. They were walking together when Ned finally asked, "I am happy to see you again Reed, but I am curious to ask, what is the purpose of your visit to Winterfell.?"

"I was planning to come here for a long time, but had to cancel when I heard you were to be the Hand to Robert. Imagine my bafflement and happiness when I heard you were heading back to Winterfell. I immediately packed and left for here. My lord, "he bowed, "I want you to take my children under your care as your wards, to raise them with your other children. The neck is no place for children to learn and become. I want them to spend their life away from that bog being of no use to anyone."

Ned smiled, "Rise Howland,I told you I won't have any of that from you." Howland rose. Ned began again, "I would be happy to raise Jojen and Meera in Winterfell, but don't ever think you are of no use. You are my greatest friend Howland, and my greatest asset."

Howland smiled. "Thank you my lord."

A guard was waiting for them at the entrance of the crypt. "My lord, I am afraid we have a visitor. Tyrion of House Lannister. He is on his way back to the Capital after his visit to Castle Black."

Ned tensed up suddenly.  _A Lannister_  .  _What if he's responsible for Bran's fall, and has come back to finish the task_. that thought made him shudder. Ned pushed it back. He knew about Tyrion the Imp, the black sheep of House Lannister. He knew from the first look that there was no love between him and the Queen, although the Kingslayer was friendly to him.  _'I don't know anything about this man, and won't hold anything against him.'_

He walked to the Hall and sat down on the Lord's Table. Tyrion walked in, along with a man of the Night's Watch. "He's been to the Wall Ned," Howland said. Hearing that made Ned instantly start liking Tyrion Lannister. He had asked Robert to visit the Wall, but he didn't bother due to the cold.

"My greetings to the Warden of the North," Tyrion began, "I am sorry to burden you with my presence. I wasn't expecting you to be here."

Ned knew his lord's courtesies. "The honor is mine Lord Tyrion," he began, "how was your visit to Castle Black?"

"Fascinating," Tyrion remarked, "I found the Wall to be a beautiful place, in a horrifically uncomfortable sort of way," he japed.

"Aye, a nights watchmen lives a hard life serving the realm."

"I met your brother Benjen there. He doesn't like me a lot. Met your son Jon too, a fantastic lad. He was euphoric after hearing that your son Bran has finally woken up. Can you bring him here?"

"What do you want from him?" Robb asked in a venomous voice. The wolf blood was strong in him too.

"Silence Robb," Ned commanded, "bring Bran here."

The stableboy Hodor brought Bran to the Hall, carring him in his arms.

"So it's true then. Hello Bran!" Tyrion greeted. "Do you remember anything about what happened?"

"He has no memory of that day," Luwin said.

"Curious," Tyrion said.

'Curios indeed,' Ned thought. Was the Imp bluffing him by asking this from Bran, knowing all along that Bran won't remember anything about it?  _'I am thinking madness.'_  He knew the look Tyrion Lannister was giving Bran very well. It was the look of conmpassion and empathy.

"Do you like to ride Bran?" he asked.

Maester Luwin came forward. "My lord, the child has lost the use of his legs. He cannot sit a horse."

Nonsense," said Lannister. "With the right horse and the right saddle, even a cripple can ride."

"I'm not a cripple!" Bran said shrilly.

"Then I am not a dwarf," the dwarf said. "My father will rejoice to hear it."

"What sort of horse and saddle are you suggesting?" Maester Luwin asked.

"A smart horse," Tyrion replied. "The boy cannot use his legs to command the animal, so you must shape the horse to the rider, teach it to respond to the reins, to the voice. I would begin with an unbroken yearling, with no old training to be unlearned." He drew a rolled paper from his belt. "Give this to your saddler. He will provide the rest."

Maester Luwin took the paper from his hands. "Will I truly be able to ride?" Bran asked.

"You will," the dwarf told him. "And I swear to you, boy, on horseback you will be as tall as any of them. My job here is done lord Stark. I'll take my leave now."

Ned stood up, "You are our guest my lord," he began, "and besides, you have done my boy a kindness. The hospitality of Winterfell is yours. I insist you stay the night in the castle and leave afresh tomorrow."

"Why I am honored Lord Stark," Lannister smiled, watching him with those mismatched eyes, "but I'll take my leave. I hope our next meeting will be in good will like this one."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Salt, Smoke and Blood**

* * *

Jon Snow stood on the top of the world, various thoughts spinning in his head. The Wall was beautiful, the view from the top even more so, a vast expanse of sheer white scenery, dotted with the grey-black carciatures of tall pine trees that grew so stubbornly in this harsh place. It was soothing to look down and see the world below so tiny, and it provided Jon much needed escape from the folly below.

The news of his Father's return to Winterfell had reached Castle Black. "Great news," he had heard Jeor Mormont say, "the Northerners belong to the North. And with Ned Stark in Winterfell, we don't have to worry much about Mance Rayder." Jon could see with ease that the Old Bear, no matter how devoted he was, had given up on the Night's Watch, always looking to the Stark army for help. Jon didn't blame him. From what he had seen, the Black brothers were nothing but a bunch of pardoned criminals, with the exception of those who joined in hope of a full belly.

_I miss them,_ Jon thought, as a gust of chilly wind blew at him. As much as he had tried to deny it, Jon now knew that he missed Winterfell. He missed training with the Master of Arms Ser Rodrick, racing with Robb outside Winterfell, spending time with his father, listening to Arya's rants about Sansa and her Septa, and what not. He had always thought of taking the Black and serving as a Night Watchsman as an option due to his birth. Besides he didn't want to be at the receiving end of Lady Catelyn's hatred, and Uncle Benjen had always inspired him.

But Castle Black this far had been a disappointment. Not only the life was hard here with the cold and Alliser Thorne, there was no one like him who had come to take the Black willingly.

"Jon what are you doing there?" Jon turned to see his uncle Benjen approaching him, watching him gravely all the while.

"Nothing, I just like the view from here," replied Jon.

His uncle walked to stand beside. "It is beautiful indeed, though the cold can freeze your balls off in the North," he said as he gestured towards the wilderness to the North.

Jon snorted as his gaze followed his uncle's gesture. He was soon to leave for a ranging in the North.

"When do you think I will go there, North of the Wall; the way you go?"

Benjen's expression turned graver. "First you need to speak your vows and become one of us. Then train with me and Ser Alliser."

A bitter taste came in Jon's mouth on the mention of the prickly Master of Arms of Castle Black. "How long will it take?"

"A month. A year. Who knows," replied Benjen, " and that is if you get in the order of the rangers."

"You mean, that I might not become one," asked Jon incredulously.

"It is for the Lord Commander to decide," replied Uncle Benjen. The taste in Jon's mouth got more bitter.

They both stood there for some time, until Uncle Benjen said, "You don't have to do this Jon."

Jon looked at him in utter shock, feeling like a thief caught in the act. He asked "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about," replied Benjen, "You miss Winterfell, don't you?"

Jon didn't find any reason to lie to his uncle, "Yes I do, but what of it."

"You have still not taken the vow," Benjen explained, "that means you still aren't a Man of the Night's Watch, and besides you have come willingly here. You can also leave willingly."

Jon watched him, puzzled. "I can't leave. You need me here."

"Castle Black has been standing since long before you were born, and will keep standing after our deaths. Night's Watchman lives a hard life. You came here because you didn't want to upset your father's lady wife. Now Ned is back, and you can go back."

"But,"

"Now Jon," Uncle Benjen went on, a kind smile on his face, "being an illegitimate person doesn't mean it is the end of the world for you. You can still earn glory. Many a knights had been bastards before, and were later given a name and Lordship. Your grandfather's maester was himself a bastard of the Reach. If you want then you can return. There's no shame in it."

"Can I ask something from you, Uncle Benjen?" Jon asked.

"Aye go on."

"Why did you take the Black?"

Uncle Benjen sighed. He didn't speak for a while, choosing to look to the North at the vast white scenery. Suddenly his face looked haggard like father, whenever he executed someone. "Truth be told," he began, "I came here because I had almost nothing worth staying for."

"Why," Jon asked.

"You see Jon," he spoke in a sad voice, "I lost everything in Robert's Rebellion Jon, everything. Father, Brandon, Lyanna, all dead," he said, gazing at the horizon north of the Wall. Judging by his tone Jon knew that his uncle was harboring immense grief within himself. "They died and left me and Ned behind. I was just a boy then, and I never met my mother. I hardly knew anything about death or loss. Ned was married already, and had two newborn sons." His eyes were shining with unshed tears, yet his face was hard as always. "I didn't have anyone. I couldn't stay at Winterfell anymore. They haunted me Jon, they haunted me wherever I went. I knew that the Starks have manned the Wall for thousands of years. All Nights watchmen have to desert everything before taking the Black. I already had lost everything, and taking the Black was the only thing which brought peace to my mind. I never regretted my decision, and never will."

There was silence for a while. "Do you regret your decision," Jon asked warily.

"I don't know," replied Uncle Benjen. "Like I said, I was a boy. I haven't known any life other than this one. I like to keep it that way, otherwise I fear I might start hating myself for the choices I made." Uncle Benjen smiled a bitter smile.

Jon was watching his Uncle in surprise. It seemed that before this conversation he didn't even know a thing about him. Benjen finally looked at him and went on, "but you Jon, you haven't lost anything. You have people whom you love, and they love you too. You should go back, and make something out of yourselves. The Wall may need strong lads like you, but that doesn't oblige you to take this hard life for some stupid stoic reason. I'll send a raven to Winterfell, and you leave tomorrow."

"But they'll call me a coward," Jon argued.

"'They' may call you that," uncle said, "and I hope that someday you'll prove them wrong and shut their mouths forever."

 

* * *

"He made the Blackfish his Hand," Stannis Baratheon raged. "I understood why he went with Lord Eddard in the first place. Robert loves him more than both his blood brothers combined. But how can that Brynden Tully mean more to him than me? Tell me Ser Davos, is my resentment not justified."

Davos Seaworth looked puzzled, as if he wasn't sure what to say. He finally mouthed, "My Lord, you still hold Dragonstone, biggest castle of the Seven Kingdoms. Many a houses are sworn to you."

"Houses of Crabs and Seahorses. Such power they have," Stannis shook his head. "You think it is power that I desire," Stannis turned to Davos, eyes filled with anger. Suddenly his whole demeanor changed. He composed himself and spoke in a calm voice, "I've done my duty to my brother time and time again. Yet he shuns me so. He asked me to hold Storm's End during his rebellion. We were close to starvation, were being forced to eat mice during Mace Tyrell's Siege. My wife was weak and sick, and the knights and the household were losing hopes all the same. Yet I stood by his cause, holding the damned castle with whatever courage I could muster. We would've died if it hadn't been for you and your onions. Yet after all was done, he came and thanked his dear Ned for lifting the siege, instead of thanking me for eating rats for his cause. I won Dragonstone for him, yet he rebuked me for losing the Targaryen whelps." Stannis closed his eyes, his lips now a thin line.

"After his coronation, he gave Storm's End to Renly, who was just a boy then; and asked me to go and hold his wretched place. Tell me Ser Davos, am I not the rightful lord of my ancestral seat of Storm's End. Shouldn't it be Renly in the wretched Castle instead of me surrounded by smoke and salt."

"My Lord," Davos counseled, "Renly is your younger brother. You have loved him all your life, and still love him."

"Of course I love him," Stannis snorted dryly, "what choice do I have. He is my brother is he not. I see him, what he has become from the boy I knew. Laughing with men and jousting in tourneys only to be knocked down by better men. Getting in bed with the Tyrells, who'd have seen him starve to death all those years ago. But who am I to judge. My brothers always had this virtue, which the Gods didn't bother to give me. With their wit they can turn enemies into friends; all the while not bothering to keep men around who are truly loyal. Renly is Master of laws, such a great choice for the position," Stannis finished.

"You already had a seat earlier in the Small Council which you had left. May be the King thought that you don't want to stay in King's Landing."

"He never asked me why I left," Stannis said, scrunching his face in anger, "as if I never existed."

Davos again tried to convince Stannis, "I think it turned out well my lord. If King Robert had chosen you for a Hand, the Lannisters might have tried to take your life as well. After all, you discovered the truth about the Queen yourselves with Lord Arryn. You would be safe here at Dragonstone."

Stannis gave Davos a spine chilling look. "You don't get it do you?" he said, "I fear for Robert, and his rule. The King is surrounded by treacherous snakes of Lions. Lord Eddard's presence might have kept Robert safe, and I left the Capital hoping this. But now Lord Stark has deserted him too, and Robert has taken some old Riverland Knight as his hand, a Knight from what I hear is good only for battles; who just fought one war with Robert, and that too 17 years ago. I am not comfortable in confessing it Ser Davos, but I am afraid for my fool brother, and what would become of him being surrounded by those Lannisters. You are dismissed, Onion Knight," he commanded.

 

* * *

Like always, Winterfell was full of life; which often made Ned wonder why he ever considered going with Robert. He was as happy as he could be at the moment. He was worried for his wife, and the worrying was eating him from within. Each day without any news from his wife made him more restless, not to mention his children.

He had found a tutor for Arya. He had met Lady Mona before, and couldn't think of anyone better nearby for Arya. She was a sworn sword to Lord Wyman Manderly, one of his most trusted guard and was one of the quickest swordfighters he had seen, and was fierce for her girth and size. Her technique was what he imagined would be good for Arya. A raven did the whole task. Within two days she came to Winterfell and took up the task of making Arya as good as her, perhaps better. "It'll take time Lord Stark," she told him. "Little lady wants to fight with her rapier sword, while I use a Westerosi longsword. I'll have to think how to train her to use that, and I'll also convince her to try the longsword too."

Ned would've hired a Bravosi swordmaster for Arya if he had found one. Howland's girl also joined them, eager to learn to use a real sword after fighting with a spear and net all her life. Bran was doing well too. The saddle suggested by Tyrion Lannister was working flawlessly for him, and he was happier than before. Sansa once again indulged herself in her needlework, but now she spent more time with her brothers and sister. Rickon stayed with Ned all the time, often asking when his mother would return.

Among all his children it was Robb who impressed Ned the most. Robb was changing a lot. He now carried a real sword with him, spent a lot of time with the maester now, and often came to him too asking something about ruling or lordship. Perhaps it was dawning on him that he was his father's heir, and a man grown now. 'Good for him,' he thought. His children never ceased to make him proud.

It was a crisp morning as he was getting ready to go for a hunt to the woods with Robb and the others in the morning. They had just rode out of the castle when Theon Greyjoy said, "look, riders are coming this way."

Indeed there were two riders. One was wearing black while other was wearing grey. Ned squinted his eyes to see them better.

"It's Jon," Robb exclaimed, "and Brother Yoren."

Indeed they were. As much as Ned was happy to see him, yet his arrival puzzled him. But on closely looking at him, he understood everything. And Yoren, he had left Winterfell with Tyrion. Why had he come back.

Both of them dismounted. Robb spoke first, "Welcome home Jon. We weren't expecting you. And Yoren, I don't understand the purpose of your visit."

"My lord. Your lady mother has taken the Imp. She thinks he was responsible for your brother's fall."

 

* * *

" _Winterfell_ ," the old Knight boomed, and charged on the hilltribes. The rest followed, shouting their own leige's name, and the sellswords shouting meaningless battle cry. Tyrion felt a sudden urge to leap up, brandish his axe, and shout, "Casterly Rock!" but the insanity passed like wind and he crouched down behind a rock.

It didn't take long for Tyrion to realize that the hilltribes easily outnumbered them. Besides there were slingers throwing rocks and boulders from above. The defenders fell one by one. Rodrick Cassel fought till the end of the skirmish, when a rock hit him between the eyes and two of the tribesmen thrusted their axes in his belly.

"My lady," he whispered, and his eyes went lifeless. Tyrion looked towards her, and saw her her being manhandled by 3 tribesmen, her knife lying on the ground forgotten. "Help me," she shrieked. Two of the men pinned her down while the third started undoing his breeches.

_Let them have the bitch_ , he thought. But instead of this thought dominating in his head, he found himself moving towards them. "Get away from her," he snapped at them.

"Go away and I'll spare your life you little shit," one of them rasped, and gave him a toothy smile. "Today we'll give her a strong son."

By then the rest of the guardsmen had gathered around them. Tyrion looked at Lady Stark, whose face had turned red and her eyes were wide open with horror and disgust. He once again raised his voice, "Do you know who she is you blithering idiots. She is lady Catelyn Stark of Winterfell!"

They scoffed. "Oh yes," one of them said, "and I am her lord Rickard Stark. Now can I have the bitch?"

"I am speaking the truth," Tyrion insisted. "Believe me, you are all dead men if you do anything wrong to her. Her father is Lord of Riverlands, her sister is the Lady of Vale, and his husband is the Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North."

The man who was standing shoved him hard and Tyrion fell on the ground. "And who are you," he asked, his breeches still half open.

_Now we're talking_ , Tyrion thought. "You know, a famous song about my father starts with those very lines," Tyrion said, grinning all the while and trying hard to ignore the pain in his ass which had possibly landed on a sharp stone. "You are speaking to Lord Tyrion of House Lannister, the richest of all great houses of Westeros."

All of them looked puzzled now. Clearly, this was a new situation for them. High born lords and ladies never travelled with such a small number of guardsmen. "We'll take them to Shagga," one of them said.

**A lot of Jon's and Stannis's POV was already known to us wasn't it. Consider it a filler.**

**SO, did you like it? Review**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**The Beginning**

* * *

 

"I've sent a raven to Lord Stark regarding the ugliness about your brother my queen, I'm sure it will be taken care of soon," Brynden Tully said.

The new hand of the king often made Cersei uneasy with his very presence. Brynden Tully was in essence an honorable knight, who liked to keep to himself and stay away from politics. These traits should have made him seem very less threatening and quite manageable to her, however there was something about the look in his eyes, something that made him look very intimidating, as if he's seeing right through the person he's looking at.

"I know you haven't seen your niece for a while Lord Brynden," she said, adding as much venom as she can in her sweet voice, "but she's your kin, and you are the King's Hand. I hope you will find it in your heart to punish her for her crimes. Otherwise I'll find someone else to plan my brother's recovery and bring him justice."

"That won't be necessary Your Grace," he said, cool as a cucumber. "Catelyn is an honorable woman, she won't do anything which is against her honor. There must have been some misunderstanding. Would you like a drink," he asked. Cersei nodded. He filled two cups of wine and gave one to her.

"A pity I couldn't say goodbye to your brother Your Grace," he said while walking towards the door, "I wonder why he left in such a hurry."

"My brother doesn't share the views of justice that you have Lord Tully. He believes in taking action, not just sending birds."

"Sending birds eh," said the Blackfish. "That is more that what your father did to help the King win his throne," Brynded threw back.

' _How dare him_ ,' Cersei's heart burned with rage. Yet she did well to hide it behind a sweet thin lined smile. "I see that you haven't brought any guardsmen with you. It's often a sad mistake to believe that you are too well protected."

"I don't like guards your grace, especially in the Capital. No matter how sacred their vow is, the guards here turn out false. Your brother for instance."

Before Cersei could retort there was a rapping on the door. "Come in," Brynden called.

A guardsman entered. "I am so sorry to interrupt My Lord, Your Grace, but we have some peasants from the Riverlands who demand you immediate audience."

* * *

"Lord Beric," he called out. "Thoros of Myr. Ser Gladden. Lord Lothar," The men named stepped forward one by one. "Each of you is to assemble hundred men, to bring my word to Gregor's keep. I," he paused. He couldn't leave King's Landing with King Robert absent. God knows what Cersei would do behind their back. But the matter was too serious, and those were his lands burning. He knew Tywin Lannister would want to draw him out and take him captive for what Cat had done. But if this goes unchecked, the realm would bleed. His hot headed nephew wouldn't sit silent for long. If and when Riverrun strikes back, there would be war, and in the end the Tullys would be branded as rebels if their gracious queen got her way, and which she often did. "I shall have the command," he continued, "as befits my rank. Ser Loras Tyrell will also ride with us."

"As you command Lord Tully," the chosen ones said in one voice.

Brynden raised his voice, so it carried to the far end of the throne room. "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men and the Rhoynar, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Brynden of the House Tully, his Hand, I I will ride to the westerlands with all haste, to cross the Red Fork of the Trident under the crown's flag, and there bring the king's justice to the false knight Gregor Clegane, and to all those who shared in his crimes. I denounce him, and attaint him, and strip him of all rank and titles, of all lands and incomes and holdings, and do sentence him to death. May the gods take pity on his soul."

As the session was adjourned, Petyr walked towards him. "You know that our Queen will sit on the throne in your place once you are gone, don't you uncle," he said.

"Let her do her worst, King Robert will come back soon enough," Brynden said. "If I don't go, far worse things will happen. Take care Petyr."

* * *

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

__

**Chapter 7**

* * *

 

Cersei was triumphant. Everything worked in her favour though she never did anything in the first place. The King went for a hunt, the Hand went to a war, and all she had to do was to have the wine changed by her cousin; and here he was, Robert Baratheon, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, gored by a boar in a 'hunting accident'.

Pycelle was certain that the King can't be saved, no thanks to his esteemed expertise. Even Moon Boy could've told this by looking at Robert's mangled torso. Robert was literally torn apart. After giving him a last dosage of Milk of the Poppy to ease his passing, Pycelle departed to his chambers to deliver ravens carrying this 'grave' news throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

Soon after, Robert Baratheon passed away. The next morning, her Joff called the Council and asked for making arrangements for his coronation. Everyone was present except for Renly. Barristan Selmy produced the will of the deceased king, which clearly mentioned Joff as his heir. The Council worked fast, and he was coronated that very night. Later, on interrogating the City Watch, Cersei found out that Renly had fled the City the night Robert died, and soon after him, another rider also left in haste. 'Later,' she thought. Right now she wanted to taste the sweet taste of victory, and the boar in Robert's funeral feast actually materialized it. Joffery was the King now, and she the most powerful person of the Seven Knigdoms. Soon she'd get the news of her father crushing Brynden Tully, and then the Kingdoms would be at peace after the return the Imp. She was slightly worried about the Starks, but her rational thinking said it was for naught. If the issue of her 'dear' little brother is solved quickly, they have no reason to go against her or her father.

* * *

Rory chose the fastest horse from the stables and rode off before first light. Even though he was poor, Rory considered himself a loyal person and was proud of it. He owed everything to Robert Baratheon and his friends, the Starks, the Arryns and the Tullys. 'I have to find them,' he thought, 'I have to reach them before something goes amiss.'

They were riding almost a day ahead of him, but he was sure they wouldn't be as fast as him and would've stopped at some places to keep their strength for battle, and that was where he was at advantage. 'I will definitely kill this horse in the end,' he thought. This was the longest and fastest he had ever rode.

He found them after riding for two days near Stony Sept. "Stop," he shouted, frantic.

The riding halted. He rushed towards them. Brynden Tully addressed him, "What happened? Is something amiss in the Capital," he asked, his face showing dread.

"My lord," he babbled, "The King, he's dead. The Queen killed him. They say it was an accident but I am sure she killed him."

Now everyone was paying attention. "Are you certain of what you are saying," Tully asked.

"I am," he said, and suddenly he was falling. It didn't take him long to realize that it was his horse. The tedious ride had got to him.

Everyone was watching him in apprehension. "What should we do now my lord hand," Thoros of Myr asked.

"We should go and complete this last task before going back," Loras Tyrell said.

Beric Dondarrion interrupted, "It's the Gregor Clegane we are going to fight. If he doesn't hack you apart, the Queen will surely put your little daisy head on a pretty spike for going against her father's bannermen. Do you have naught for your mind, Ser Daisy?"

"He's right," Tully said, "We already know of war between Westerlands and Riverlands. But with King Robert dead, everything changes. We are no longer the King's men, we will be branded bigrands and rebels now if we go fight, and so will be the Tullys."

But Rory wasn't paying any mind to this conversation any longer. His mind was spinning, and darkness was falling over his eyes. He heard someone call out to him, and that was the last thing he heard.

* * *

"Oh I would kill for a wineskin," Thoros of Myr cursed. It had been about an hour since the rider had passed out. Everyone was perplexed.

"I have considered every option," Brynden Tully said, "and all of them lead to war."

"We can yield," one of the men suggested.

"We won't," Tully said, "though it's a tempting option."

Beric Dondarrion suggested, "We shouldn't declare for anyone. We will fight for the realm, and the King's peace. Let these high lords have their war," Loras Tyrell nodded in approval.

"And what good will that do," Brynden asked.

"Think about it my lord," Beric argued. "King Robert's realm will bleed during this war. We are his men, not of the Tullys or Lannisters. We were sent here to protect the weak. We should do the same."

"I admire your chivalry Lord Beric," Brynden said, "but becoming outlaws won't help end this chaos. With your band of 100 men, you might be able to save a town or two, while the whole riverlands and westerlands might be affected by this war. If it is glory you desire, then let me tell you that you won't get any by becoming outlaws." Brynden addressed the whole army, "We know the Lannisters started the whole mess, we'll end it by declaring for the Tullys."

All men looked puzzled. Thoros went to the former hand, "my lord, these men are mostly the Crown's army. They are loyal to Robert, not the Tullys or Lannisters, and so are I and Lord Beric. You are a Tully by blood, go defend your lands and family, we understand that. But we will fight for loyalty, not honor and glory."

"All right then," Brynden Tully smiled, "those who want to fight from the side of the Tullys, ride with me," he shouted. Out of the assembled 150, twenty men joined Lord Tully along with the Knight of the Flowers. "We ride at once," he said, "ride to Riverrun and see what's what. Two scouts will ride ahead of us to ensure safe travel."

* * *

"Hah, I won," Arya shrieked. It was probably their forth duel, and Arya had won for the first time. She was getting good. Sansa was happy for her sister, although Septa Mordane was having perpetual headaches by her newfound activities.

"Sansa," Arya cried, "did you see that. I beat her." Sansa smiled. "Of course I saw you. You are doing well, and you did well too Meera."

"Well thanks," Meera said. Sansa liked the Reeds, particularly Meera. Jojen Reed appearec mad to Sansa. He always had a strange look in his unusual green eyes, which often made her uneasy. He spent most of his time with Bran, for which Sansa was grateful. Meera, on the other hand, was very sweet and pleasant person, and was great a great company.

"All right, that's enough for today," Mona announced, "Meera, I am saying it again, you should parry more of Arya's blows. Matching them all will eventually wear you down. Otherwise you're doing well."

"Okay my lady," Meera said.

Dusk had fallen. Sansa and Arya walked side by side to their respective chambers.

"Where do you mother is right now," Arya asked.

"I don't know, but wherever she is, she'll be safe. Ser Rodrick has also gone with her," Sansa replied.

"Do you know the Lannisters are attacking the Riverlands," she said.

This shocked her. "No they're not," she said, "Where did you hear that?"

"I hear a lot of things," Arya said and smirked. Sansa didn't like the smirk. "Don't be cheeky with me Arya. Tell me, where did you hear this?"

"Lord Tully sent a raven to father, asking for aid. Father was discussing it with the others, that was when I heard him while hiding. Later I asked him why he didn't call us to tell this news. He said that we didn't have any business hearing this. He's planning to send one thousand me from Winterfell and Torrhen Square if King Robert commands him, but has already alerted other bannermen that help might be required."

"Mother had taken Lord Tyrion a prisoner," Sansa said mostly to herself, "maybe the Lannisters are attacking her lands for vengeance."

"That's why I am worried for mother now," Arya said. Sansa couldn't help agree. Lannisters were cruel and dangerous people. She knew it both from songs as well as from experience.

By now they both had reached their chambers. The two sisters bade each other goodbye and closed their doors. The warm steamy air hit Sansa as she entered her chamber. Making her way across she removed her coat and sat down in front of the mirror to take a look at herself. Her messy hair unnerved her, making her pick up a hairbrush and start brushing her long auburn hair. That again reminded her of her mother, who always used to choose her dresses and brush her hair. Her father had sent men to locate her, but as far as she knew, there was no news about her till now. However, Ser Rodrick had gone with her, and she knew he would keep her safe.

She had to admit, her life had become a lot easier after her broken betrothal with the Prince. Now she didn't feel the constant need of pleasing others and behaving like a proper lady, and that made her less reserved and uptight towards others. Now she left her chambers and went to the Godswood and other places more frequently, and even talked to the Winterfell household. She often wondered how stupid she was for not bothering to talk to them earlier, just because they were servants. They all were very nice, and very loyal to her and her father. Lady's loss had taught her a hard lesson, and she wouldn't ever forget that.

She often wondered who would be her husband in the future. Probably someone from her father's bannermen, or some Southern lord. Her first guess was the Knight of the Flowers or one of his other brothers, or she just hoped she would marry one of them. Highgarden was a beautiful place to live in, and she had heard that Loras Tyrell was handsome and gallant, Meera also agreed with her. "Your father refused the Crown Prince, so apart from the Tyrells, I don't think anyone from the South will want to marry you and slight the crown. Tyrells are very powerful family after all."

A knock on her door brought her out of her thoughts. "Come in," she called.

A servant entered. "What is it," she asked.

"Your father asks for your presence in the Hall my lady," a servant replied.

"Why? It's not supper time yet. Why is he calling me," she asked.

"Not just you, he has called all your siblings, Greyjoy and the bastard…"

"His name is Jon," she snapped.

"Beg your pardon my lady," she apologized, "he has called everyone. It must be some important business."

"I'll be right there," she said. She wore her coat and allowed herself be escorted by the servant.

She found everyone gathering in the great hall except Rickon. Father was looking sad and grim. He addressed his children, "there was a raven from the Capital this morning. The King is dead."

"How father," Robb asked, aghast. No doubt everyone was sharing his emotion.

"There was an accident during one of his hunting campaign. A boar attacked him and he died of the wounds." He lowered his head, eyes shining with unshed tears. Sansa moved to her father's side and hugged him. The King was father's great friend. His death must be hurting him a lot.

Father held her and kissed her forehead. "I thought you all should know about this," he said "It's almost time for supper now. I say you leave after that only."

* * *

"Do you remember anything about the night you fell Bran," his father asked. It was time for bed already, and Bran was feeling drowsy; but the tone of father's voice made him wide awake.

"No father," he said. "Why do you ask?"

He ignored his query. "Try to remember, what happened," he insisted. "You were so sure footed. What made you fall? Do you remember something? Something related to your fall."

"No father," he said, but suddenly he remembered the three eyed crow. "There was one dream though."

"Tell me about it," he sounded desperate. Bran narrated the whole dream to him.

"You saw us," he was quite taken aback. Anyone would be if he knew his son had a prophetic dream.

"Yes." Bran replied.

"Why didn't you tell me about this before," he asked.

"It didn't come up," Bran said, "and besidsd it was just a dream."

"Is this the only dream you had?"

"Yes."

"If you have any such dream again, please tell me or Robb or Maester Luwin about it," he said.

Bran nodded. Father's eyes again widened. "A golden face you said," he asked.

"Yes," Bran said, "the face was golden. It said 'things I do for love,' and went away."

"Was the face beautiful or ugly," he asked.

"I don't remember," Bran said, feeling stupid all of a sudden.

"Go to sleep Bran. We'll talk tomorrow," he got up and left Bran's chamber.

* * *

 


	8. Chapter 8

** Chapter 8 **

** Winter Is Coming **

* * *

 

Renly Baratheon was feeling pleased with himself as he sat in his chambers in his ancestral keep of Storm's End, wearing an attire of dazzling green color. He generally was please with himself, but today feeling was stronger. He had acted fast, summoning the Power of the stormlands with him. He knew it wasn't enough, but it was a start. He had to get the Tyrells behind him, which was proving difficult without Loras Tyrell with him, since they had not revealed the marriage proposal to anyone.

If only Loras was here, he could've married Margery easily and brought the whole power of the Reach behind him, and could've declared himself King. He had sent riders to Highgarden, who reported that Mace Tyrell has rejected the marriage proposal. 'All in due time,' he thought. He had the Storm Lords behind him even when he wasn't the 'rightful heir'.

Even though Renly had ambition, he wasn't done grieving for his brother Robert. Robert was the only one of Renly's brother who bestowed actual love on him after his parents' death. But he had to save the throne from the Lannister control, for which he had to leave the Capital early.

He was interrupted form his train of thoughts when Lady Brienne of Tarth walked in his chamber. She was a grotesque oaf of a lady, but her loyalty came without cost; which made her invaluable for Renly. Even a fool could tell just by looking that she was in love with him.

"Lord Renly, there was a message from your brother," she said shyly. She handed him a parchment. Renly's eyes widened as he read the words of his elder brother, and then smirked.

 _All of Cersei's children are bastards. Very convenient for Stannis_. Renly was about to put the scroll in the fire, but as he thought more and more about it he thought it might be true. Joffery or the other two of Cersei's children were nothing like Robert, neither by looks nor by demeanor.

Most importantly Stannis was too bloody righteous to lie to the whole realm.

"The other high lords believe in what Lord Stannis has written in this message. They want to declare for Stannis as the King my lord," Brienne said.

Renly took a deep sigh. This was catastrophe for his plans. "That's why I called the banners," he replied, "to seat my brother on the Iron throne. Heis the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms."

* * *

"He was not in his senses my lord," Luwin again tried to change Ned's mind. Ned had come to the maester's chamber the very next morning and had narrated him Bran's dream.

"My boy wouldn't have told me this if he was just hallucinating."

"How can you be sure my lord," said Luwin. "A child's mind is a child's mind."

"I know my children Maester," Ned said with finality, "also, I know that none of my children will ever lie to me on such matter. Besides it was true enough to not be just a dream. He saw what happened at the Trident, where the Lannister woman ordered the death of the wolf. He also saw Cat in a ship with the dagger you told me about, seemingly heading towards a storm and being unable to see it."

Maester Luwin seemed to shiver. "But what he saw, it doesn't make any sense. There's nothing in the far north all but snowy land. The Others, as people refer them, don't exist." Luwin retorted, "they are just monsters of a tale."

"He didn't say that he saw the Others," Ned replied, "apparently he couldn't comprehend what he saw; but I knew that he wasn't talking about just snow when I heard him. I am not saying that he saw  _them_ , as I too believe that the Others are all dead and will continue believing it till I get a conclusive proof, but they are not just tales. Do you think that Bran the Builder would've built so high a wall just to ward off wildlings. With dead direwolves being found south of the Wall, who knows what else is out there." Luwin lowered his eyes, still shivering but deep in thought.

"This all is too bizarre for a maester of the Citadel to comprehend, my lord. If Bran saw all this in a dream, he has the fabled power of greensight."

"Bran the Builder was also said to have it. Lord Reed's son also claims of having it."

"Don't you think you're stretching it too far my lord?"

"No I am not stretching it."  _Gods Southerners are exasperating_. "I am just connecting the dots. Weird things have been happening around us Maester Luwin. Have you ever heard of a direwolf being sighted south of the Wall. Even the Nights Watchmen haven't seen one. But we found one dead, and it whelped exactly five grey pups and one white pup, one of each of the Stark children," a knot tightened in his stomach as he again thought of Sansa's wolf. "If you had looked at the deserter I beheaded, you might have noticed the sheer terror in his eyes, which had nothing to do with my blade."

"What do you want me to do my lord," Luwin asked, a rsinged look on his face.

Ned rose from his chair,"I want you to send a raven to Lord Commander Mormont, asking me to inform any unnatural occurrence on or beyond the Wall."

Just then a raven flew into the chamber.

Maester's eyes were twinkling wildly as he took the note from it and fed it some corn. "This is Lord Mormont's raven, and it has come at a quite accurate tiding. Perhaps the Gods are listening to us indeed." Luwin took his time in reading the message, and turned towards Ned. "My lord," he began with a grave face, "it says that your brother has gone missing beyond the Wall."

Nedhastily snatched the scroll from the Maester and read the message, and then read it again. Ben had gone missing during one of his ranging, and those who went looking for him didn't return as well.

He was so taken aback that he had to sit down. That was too much for him. Jon and Robert are already in their graves. Cat is missing, and now Ben. "Send my message to Mormont, and ask him to  _find_  my brother at any cost," he told Luwin and started walking towards his chambers. "Maester, also send a raven to Casterly Rock, telling Lord Tywin that what happened at the Inn at the Crossroads was a misunderstanding. Tell him to withdraw his armies from the Riverlands. Tell him that his son will be returned to him safely. I want this madness to come to an end."

"But my lord, Bran,"

"I know a Lannister was responsible for Bran's fall," Ned said bitterly. "I also want justice for my boy. But I have not heard anything about my lady wife except that she took Lord Tyrion a prisoner at the Inn at the Crossroads, and nothing about what happened afterwards. And the riverlands are being ravaged for no reason."

"My lord, you don't have to tell me all this, I understand it very well. But you shold not make any rash decision. The men you sent will soon find Lady Catelyn."

Luwin was interrupted when they heard footsteps approaching the turret. Soon enough Robb walked into the chamber, carrying Bran in his arms, whose leg was bleeding profusely. Theon and Jojen Reed followed him.

"What happened," he and Luwin said at once, moving towards Bran. "Wildling ambush," Robb replied. "Two brothers of the Nights Watch were also with them."

"They hurt Bran," Theon said with a slight smirk. "We killed them all and took one captive."

"Only because they attacked and threatened us," Robb said, irritation in his voice.

"I'll bandage the wound and give you milk of the poppy," Luwin said.

"I don't need milk of the poppy. My leg doesn't hurt," Bran said meekly.

"I will bandage him and have him brought to his bed," Luwin said, looking unnerved. "It is best if you all leave me with him."

Ned and the others walked out of the Maester's turret. He finally asked, "the captive you took, is he a wildling?"

"Actually she is a wildling woman," Robb said, "she told us that her name is Osha."

"Take me to her," Ned said.

They had bound her in the stables. The more Ned saw her, the less she looked like a woman. She was a foot taller than Ned, with shaggy brown hair and scarred face.

"We don't mean to do you any harm," Ned said to her, "you can stay here and work for as long as you want or leave. But first you must answer my questions. Why did you come south of the wall?"

The Wildling woman pretended to have not heard him.

"I demand an answer. Why did you come into my lands?"

The woman cackled. "You stupid man. Lands don't  _belong_  to man. They belong to the Gods."

Theon grabbed her by her hair and rasped, "answer to what he has asked."

"Leave her Theon. I forbid you to do any harm," Ned commanded.

Theon left her. Ned again asked, "Why did you come here?"

She finally replied, "never meant to stay here. We wanted to go as far as south goes before the long night comes."

"Why," Ned asked.

"Because there ain't no White walkers in the south."

Theon scoffed, however Robb and Ned stiffened. "They have been gone for thousands of years."

"They were never gone milord," she said, "they were sleeping, and now they've woken up."

They were interrupted when Maester Luwin bustled in. "My lord," he began.

"What's the matter Maester Luwin," Robb asked, "is Bran alright?"

"Bran is fine," he said, panting, "there was another raven, from the Capital. From the new king."

He handed Robb a parchment with trembling hand. Robb read the message and paled.

"Show it to me Robb," Ned said.

Robb handed the message to Ned. It read as follows,

_Lord Eddard Stark,_

_As you might be knowing, my beloved father Robert Baratheon first of his name, has passed away due to a hunting accident recently. Hence, the throne and the kingdoms have passed to me as the rightful heir. As the new king I have decided to modify my policy towards the North to make it easy to govern the large and wild area. The new policy involves the following terms._

_-The Northern Lords will supply 10,000 men to the royal army. From now we will have a standing army loyal to the Crown._

_-From now on the taxes paid by the North are increased to double, as the Crown requires more resources for the coming winter._

_-I am reinstating my betrothal to your daughter Sansa Stark, which was made by my Royal father in the sights of the gods, and was broken by you. Royal decrees were never yours to break Stark. I command you to send Sansa Stark to King's Landing, where she'll live as a ward to the Crown, and will be wed to me after her flowering._

_If you fail to comply with any of the above terms, you will be branded an enemy to the Crown and a traitor to the Realm. I will come myself and take your head with me on my way back to the Capital._

_Joffrey Baratheon_

_Rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms_

* * *

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**The Pack, the Pride, and the Shoal**

"Where the fuck are the northerners? Where is Lord Eddard," the former hand of the King exclaimed in frustration. They were marching to Riverrun but had to go back after hearing that the Kingslayer was marching towards it with a big army. He judged that it was only a matter of time before the castle of Riverrun will be under siege. As much as he wanted to defend Riverrun, he knew that wasn't why he came here. Besides, additional 15 men won't be any help to the Castle.

He always thought himself to be a man of strong will, but seeing what the Lannisters have done to his homeland was making him restless. He had sent riders to the Vale, but the best hope for Riverlands were the Starks of Winterfell. Ever since Robert's Rebellion the armies of the East have dwindled to a very small number, the lords mainly relying on their impregnable castles on the mountains for defense.

"Eddard Stark is like a faithful dog my lord. Give him a master and he will follow him around wagging his tail. With Robert gone, who will play his master" one of his highborn men said with grinded teeth.

"You will do well to mind you tongue," Brynden rebuked the soldier. He respected Stark, but his absence in this pointless battle was only frustrating him. "I hope Stannis's message has reached him, only then we can actually expect him to act. Otherwise he would do nothing but send ravens."

"We should try hit and run attacks and take out the Lannisters one by one," Tyrell boy quipped.

"There is no point in staying here. We will go to Winterfell and persuade the Starks to help the Riverlands drive off these Lions," another one said.

"It would be better to go to White Harbor or Greywater and find what the Northerners are up to," Brynden said in a commanding tone. He knew the effect that tone had on the men who followed him. It meant the conversation is over. "But first we will go to the Twins and see what those Freys are doing cooped up in their keeps."

On their way they crossed paths with twenty men wielding spears and shields emblazoned with the direwolf of Stark. "Stop," Brynden thundered.

The party stopped, irritated by the rude call. But two northerners recognized him. "Ser Brynden, we never expected to see you here.."

"Really," Brynden cut him in between, "but I was expecting your lord to be here since long ago. Where is Lord Stark? Why hasn't he come to help us?"

The Northerners struggled to find words. "Lord Eddard was waiting for King Robert's command to march against the Lannisters. By now the news of his death and King Stannis' raven would've reached Winterfell. We are sure Lord Stark would now do whatever is in his power to liberate the Riverlands."

This assurance by some wayward wasn't enough for Brynden, but he took it anyway. "What are you doing so far away from home," he asked them.

"We were sent by Lord Eddard with the task to find the whereabouts of his lady wife. We found a man in the way. Bronn he calls himself. He claims he was one of the men who helped her imprison the Imp."

"Show that man to me."

From between the group of the riders, came a mounted men. By his goatskin armor and his old longsword he instantly recognized him to be a sellsword. "Where is Lady Catelyn," he asked, deciding to keep it short.

"Why should I tell you," Bronn smirked.

"Because I am asking you to tell me."

"I don't give two shits about this Lady of yours, I only joined her for the gold," he paused abruptly. Brynden's blood was boiling. He dismounted, walked towards him horse and punched him hard in the gut, so hard that he toppled from his horse, falling on the ground in an awkward position as his foot got stuck in the stirrup..

"You are in no position to provoke me," Brynden said menacingly.

"I can see that. Get rid of those men and we'll see in what position would I be then," the sellsword threw a bloody grin at him as he tried standing up.

Brynden grabbed his throat, making him choke, "The Lady who was travelling with you is my niece," he rasped. "I am giving you this last chance. Tell me where she is, or I will pull out your guts here and feed them to you."

"All right I will tell you," Bronn gasped for air. "Will you unhand me now?"

Brynden let go of his throat. The sellsword regained his composure. "I won't tell you everything, otherwise these men won't give me shit and leave me here. She was taken captive, by Tyrion Lannister and the Mountain Clans."

* * *

"Trust me Lady Stark, I didn't have anything to do with your son's accident," Tyrion repeated again, "and this was never in my mind when I saved you from these hill folks." It had been about a week and a half since that attack on the high road. The only reason that Tyrion's head was still on his shoulders and Lady Stark's dignity still was intact was because of Tyrion's promise to the tribesmen for weapons and trinkets. Yet, the Lady of Winterfell had a 'slightly' different opinion of what happened.

"Then why don't you persuade them to let me go," Catelyn Stark said, words dripping with desperation and hatred.

"You know that I've tried."  _This is getting ridiculous_. "They won't let any of us go until I fulfill the ends of the bargain," Tyrion retorted, frustrated by her stubbornness. Chella hissed loudly, and Tyrion stopped talking at once, silently vowing never to visit the North again if he lived through this. 'Damn you to the darkest hell, Petyr Baelish," he thought.

Often Tyrion thought of sneering and taunting, 'not so nice when it happens to you,' at Lady Catelyn, but he resisted the thought. There was no need to cross the She Wolf any further.

They reached the Lannister camp near the Green Fork of the Trident in the morrow. The sight of crimson banners made Tyrion smile in genuine relief. If it was any other man, he would've been drunk with happiness on seeing home. But he was different from others. He was Tyrion the Imp, the Halfman, Son of the Mighty Tywin of Casterly Rock, who killed his mother on his way to the world, and with these came the baggage of his very breathe being hated by his family.

"It would be better if I and my fair lady continue from here," Tyrion said in the most convincing tone he could muster.

"Better for Tyrion Son of Tywin," Shagga rasped. "Not best for me. If the Halfman betrays us, Shagga Son of Dolf will cut off his manhood.."

"and feed it to the goats yes, you already told me that."

"And he will.."

"I know that too," Tyrion snapped.

Slowly, they made their way to the main camp of the Commanders, where his father Tywin and uncle Kevan was residing, as he was told by the soldiers.

His found his uncle when he enterred the ten with the others. "Tyrion," Kevan exclaimed, looking genuinely happy on seeing him. This trait of his was only shared by Jaime in his family. But his smile dropped on seeing Tyrion's 'companion'.

"Gods be good, Catelyn Stark," he mumbled to himself.

"Uncle," Tyrion greeted. "Kind of you people to start a war for me. Where is my lord father?"

"He will be here in a moment," Kevan said hastily.

Tyrion smiled. Tywin the goldshitter, his father was called by smallfolk.

Tywin Lannister arrived, and his eyes were instantly drawn to him and his 'captive'. Tyrion took a sideways glance at her, and noticed her shivering, her eyes lowered.

"Greetings father," Tyrion tried to break the ice.

He almost smiled, "I always thought you were drunken fool. I was wrong perhaps." He then addressed his uncle, "Kevan, provide Lady Stark with proper chambers, as fit her birth. See to it that none of Clegane's men be within 50 feet of her tent. I don't want their lust and stupidity to muck up the whole business."

Kevan Lannister moved from his position. "Follow me my lady," he said with utmost courtesy.

"Wouldn't it be better if we send her safely back and end this mess," Tyrion argued.

"Careful now Tyrion," his father said slyly. "It is for the first time I'm thinking highly of you. Don't ruin the moment for yourself."

* * *

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Pack, Pride and Shoal-2**

* * *

 

"You know, I've seen wet shits that I like better than you," Brynden thundered as he entered the main hall of the Twins; briskly making his way to the high seat at the end of the hall, where sat the ancient Lord of the Crossing overlooking his kin. "You are sitting here fondling your wife, while your liege has been defeated and your lands are burning."

"Mind your tongue Blackfish," a man older than the Blackfish said loudly. He was standing quite near Lord Walder's high seat.  _Steveron Frey,_ the Blackfish realized after a moment. The rest of the Freys lowered their heads, probably regretting for not having said that before him.

"Shut you bloody mouth Stevron," Walder Frey croaked angrily. He then turned to address Brynden, "My lord hand Tully," he began, words dripping with sickening courtesy. "You'll have to forgive my son. He was not at fault. Being born of someone worse than wet shits can't be his own doing, heh."

"Why are you not helping Riverrun, Frey," Brynden asked again, putting as much venom in his voice as he can. "Have you forgotten your vows? Have you lost even the last vestige of your honor?"

"Honor," Walder Frey smirked. "I called my swords, yes I did, here they are, you saw them on the walls. It was my intent to march as soon as all my strength was assembled. Well, to send my sons. I am well past marching myself. Now is it my fault that your fool nephew lost his battle before we could march?" He leaned back against his cushions and scowled at him, as if bracing himself for Brynden's arguments to dispute his version of events. "I am told the Kingslayer went through him like an axe through ripe cheese. Why should my boys hurry south to die? All those who did go south are running north again. Mallister, Bracken and the others."

"You swore an oath.."

"Aye I said some words to your brother and his kin," Frey continued in his self assured tone. "But you see, I also said the same words to the Crown and the is the King now, that means Lord Tywin and his daughter rule the Seven Kingdoms now, which makes you lot traitors and rebels. Tell me Ser Blackfish, why would I send my sons and grandsons to die by Lannister swords, only to be branded traitors in the end heh? And now you come to my keep insulting me for what, defending my kin? If I had the sense the gods gave a fish, I'd give you over to the Lannisters."

Brynden had almost opened his mouth to voice an angry retort, but he thought better than to argue with Walder Frey, in whose family runs a children's game to extort resources before granting 'crossing'.

"You'll help me prevent a Siege on Riverrun, what do you want in return?"

"What I want heh," Walder giggled. "Now that's a nice turn of events. My liege asking me what I want. Very well then, I want the respect that your family never gave me. I want apologies for the slights your family has done to us."

"You join me, Edmure will marry one of your daughters," Brynden cut him short.

Lord of the Crossing paused for a moment, and then laughed out loudly, "One of my daughters marrying a Tully heh? You must be truly desperate my lord. But still, we won't join you and turn rebels."

Brynden knew he needed the Freys. They had 4000 swords and horses; enough for a start, enough to make a difference with his leadership.

"Lord Edmure will marry a Lady Frey, and I will also take one of your daughters as my wife."

This shocked him and his kin. Walder Frey lost the self pleased look on his face.

"I am giving you a chance Frey. a chance to honour your oaths to your liege lord, a chance to let your sons find glory, a chance to join your house to mine." He was hating himself for sucking up to Walder Frey, but then again it was the need of the hour. "Two betrothals."

Walder Frey haggled for a bit longer, about how Brynden was too old to marry his daughter but in the end the deal was sealed. Two Frey squires, two Frey wards in Riverrun and of couse, two betrothals for a reinforced alliance and four thousand Frey soldiers.

* * *

"Ned, you frozen devil," GreatJon Umber boomed and laughed as he entered the Walls of Winterfell. Nearly all the Stark bannermen had arrived. Even the Magnars of Skagos and the tribes of Wolfswood had responded to his call. The Boltons and the Karstarks had arrived the previous night.

"It's good to see you Jon," Ned greeted before being crushed in a bear hug which nearly cracked his ribs. Still Ned smiled. It was a dire situation indeed, but it felt good to see his fellow Northern lords.

The GreatJon let go off of him. "You will find refreshments in the Great Keep. Then you can rest in the guest chambers. Make your men rest in the tents."

GreatJon nodded and walked off. 'Maege, you old hag. You are growing more hideous everyday,' he heard him bark from behind.

"Robb, see to it that the Umber men are provided proper land and provisions," he called out to his son, who nodded and went outside with the steward. He was showing great courage and signs of leadership, for which he was immensely proud of him. At his age he himself was a ward of Jon Arryn with Robert. That's where he learned swordsmanship and rulership with him. It was also where he got the news of his father and Brandon's murder on the commands of the mad king.

Ned was not raised to be the Lord of Winterfell some day, that place was always for Brandon. After their deaths he was thrusted the responsibilities which he never thought he would ever have to bear. His bannermen called out for justice of his father, brother and the others who went with him, for the restoration of the Northern glory and for the Northern maid to be returned safely home from the clutches of the vile Crown Prince. He was seventeen then, without any guidance and mentorship for a situation like this, but he responded to them as there was no one else to do that. Ben was too young and naïve to be involved.

_Where are you Ben?_

They couldn't take on the Crown Army with their numbers, hence to get the Tullys on their side he married his brother's betrothed alongside Jon Arryn, who married her sister. Ned loved Catelyn with all his heart now, but back then he did it for the need of the Tully swords and their allegiance. He never even knew her except for the fact that she was his brother's bride to be. He did his duty by wedding Catelyn Tully and bedding her before going off to battle. When he returned to her she presented Robb to him. That was the happiest moment of his life. After losing more than half his kin and his previous lover Ned had found a reason to cherish life in the form of his son and his new wife. Today his house was again at a critical spot, and fortunately he was there for his children unlike his father. Robb or any of his children would never have to take any responsibility that they aren't capable of, he would see to it.

In the afternoon all the lord bannermen gathered for a meeting in the Great Keep. The greetings and courtesies were done already, and now everyone looked solemn and quite aware of the situation they were facing. Ned had also invited Robb to sit with them. Arya insisted too, but Ned put her down much to her resentment.

"The terms are outrageous," Wylis Manderly said. "We can't afford to pay this much of tax. And the men, how will we defend ourselves then?"

"He threatens to kill our liege too if he doesn't see compliance," Maege Mormont said.

"Joffrey is just a boy, with a grudge against me. These terms won't last," Ned said.

"You can marry your daughter to him for his good will," Roose Bolton said.

"I won't marry any of my daughter to the likes of him," Ned declared, followed by the approval of several lords.

"No need of thinking in this direction," Lord Karstark insisted. "The course is clear. Declare for King Stannis and help him take the Iron thorne. He is the Rightful heir."

"Rickard is right, Stannis is the heir" Ned said. "I sent my boy Jon to Dragonstone as an envoy from the North when I got his raven. He sent me some disturbing news."

"Why are we so steadfast in believing in what he claims," Roose Bolton cut him in between.

"You haven't seen the Crown Prince Lord Bolton," Ned replied, "but I have. He looks more a Lannister than a Baratheon, I myself thought he looked more like a son of the Kingslayer than Robert; but didn't put much mind to it. After getting Stannis's letter I checked the Lineage of Great houses of Westeros. All the Baratheons by birth were born with coal black hair and blue eyes since Orys himself."

Bolton nodded after taking some time to comprehend what Ned had said. Ned glanced at all his lord bannermen, and noticed the GreatJon not paying much attention to the talk, and instead thinking hard to himself. "The course is clear then. Declare for Stannis," Maege Mormont said.

"I don't think so," Wylis Manderly again spoke up. "I hear all sort of tales from sailors. Stannis has got some fire priestess with him. She preaches a different religion of the East. R'hollor, she calls her god, the Red God. Burns alive those who defy her religion."

"Jon said the same in his letter. I was about to tell you this when Lord Bolton interrupted me in between," Ned spoke, glancing towards Roose Bolton, who lowered his gaze. "There is no point discussing this right now, for we have more important task at hand. What is the news from Riverrun."

"Jamie Lannister is marching past the Golden Tooth with a big army of 12,000 men. They have defeated the Tully army there," Lord Flint said. "The main army under Tywin Lannister is at Casterly Rock waiting for its first command."

Ned nodded and declared,"First we march to the Riverlands and chase the Lannisters away. How many men do we have?"

"22,000 foot, 8,000 cavalry," Rickard answered.

"Very well," Ned smiled. "Prepare everyone. We march at dawn."

* * *

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**Pack, Pride and Shoal 3**

* * *

 

"They have my wife," father said.

They had marched quickly, arriving at Moat Cailin in the afternoon, and were waiting for the additional force of White Harbor to arrive under Wendel Manderly. Father had named Sansa the Lady of Winterfell, and Lord Tallhart the Castellen.

They were only a few minutes past making their seat in the Children's Tower at Moat Calin when they got this tiding from the force sent to find Lady Catelyn. Robb and others connected the dots soon enough, his mother was probably a captive of the Lannisters now.

"Ned, I beg of you," Lord Karstark said desperately, "keep your mind clear. We need you to think straight my lord."

Father closed his eyes, deep in thought. Robb's blood was boiling, but he knew he had to think reason. He spoke up, "Tyrion Lannister would have to reach his Lord Tywin first. This incident happened nearly 18 days ago days ago. It is good that our men gave us this news long before the Lannisters will think of sending a message to us."

"The lad has the right of it Ned," Lord Umber said. Robb fumed inside. He was the youngest in the war council, but still he was a man grown. "We should keep on marching father," Robb spoke on, trying to keep irritation away from his voice.

Father looked up with a scalding look in his eyes. "They crippled my son," he spoke in a spine chilling voice, "they are burning the Riverlands, they are killing innocents and now they hold a noblewoman hostage. Yes my friends, we will march. There will be war, and there will be justice for those who were wronged by these lions." He had a mad look on his face, which unnerved Robb and many others around him.

There was a brief silence in the chambers. Jon Umber grinned and finally spoke, pointed towards the map on the tables. "We know that Tywin Lannister is down by the Red Fork, taking castles one by one till only Riverrun stands. His infernal son is busy starving out the Tullys. I say we march down and meet Lord Tywin in open battle. Lord Tywin can't defeat our numbers if we take him by surprise."

"Do you not know Lord Tywin," Roose Bolton spoke in his spider thin voice. "The man already thinks he has won the battle before even hearing anything about the opposition. Even if you defeat him, you would never break him until you have him at your swordpoint. We need leverage."

"Lord Bolton is right, and besides they already have leverage over us," father said. "They hold Riverrun and Ser Edmure, and now they also have my wife hostage. We have to move careful here. It's true that we are fighting the Lannisters, but we are fighting for the Riverlands. Freeing Riverrun may finish everything once and for all. We can cross the Green Fork at the Twins and march to Riverrun."

"That will leave the North unguarded," Robb said, bringing everyone's attention to him. "Moat Cailin may hold them, but we should not keep all our hopes on it."

"Moat Cailin has thrown back large Southron hosts numerous times," Theon said.

"Aye, but if we march down the Twins, the garrision there will be all that stands between Lord Tywin and Winterfell, and the other Northern castles."

"What do you suggest Robb," Lord Glover asked.

"When we will march down the Neck, Lord Tywin will surely march north to meet us. I say we split our force at the Twins. One part will engage Lord Tywin and keep him busy while other will take Ser Jamie unaware at Riverrun," Robb finished at the climax of his excitement. He couldn't deny it, he was pleased with himself, and was finding hard not to show it. He could not see any flaw in his plan.

Lord Umber was grinning at him, Lord Karstark and the other bannermen was looking in approval, Lord Bolton was giving him a curious stare, and father was just looking at him, his eyes shining with pride. "So we have a new plan now," GreatJon boomed. "Split the forces at the Twins, one capture the Kingslayer, other take Lord Tywin with his breeches down."

"How do we split the forces Lord Stark," Lord Karstark was addressing Robb.

"We have to take the Kingslayer by surprise," Robb said looking straight at Lord Karstark. "Taking cavalry host would be good for it. The foot host can engage Lord Tywin."

"What do you say Ned," GreatJon asked father.

"That is a good battle plan Robb," father said. "We will split the force like this only."

"Lord Stark," Lord of the Dreadfort spoke, "splitting the forces is a good plan. But let me point out that Lord Tywin's force would be atleast 25,000 strong, with more armored horses than us. The chances of our infantry winning would be slim."

"That won't matter," the GreatJon said. "Give me the command Ned. I'll take them unaware at night and gut Tywin Lannister while he is siiting on his privy."

"I appreciate your offer Jon," father said, "but I'd humbly refuse it. Roose is right. Their numbers would be more." He addressed Lord Bolton, "we don't need to crush Lord Tywin. Our aim is to keep him busy while we capture the Kingslayer. Rickard," he addressed Lord Karstark, "you will command the infantry force. March down the Kingsroad and meet Lord Tywin in battle. Steal a night's march on them, and then keep them busy. Retreat quickly if the battle turns against you, they won't pursue you for long." Father smiled. " _I_  will command the cavalry host, and ride to Riverrun. My lords, it is time to prepare the men to march. White Harbor men must be arriving at any moment. I would like to have a word with my son."

The lords nodded consent and started to go. "You stay Theon, I need to talk to you too" father said. Theon smiled and remained in the tent.

 

* * *

"Greetings Lady Stark," Lord Tywin gave greeted coldly when they entered her tent. It was dusk of the same day Tyrion and Lady Catelyn had arrived at the Lannister Camp. The host was about to leave to capture Harrenhal the next day. "I hope you got all the hospitalities here that you so well deserved after abducting my son," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

The she wolf looked at his father with fury in her eyes. "Now you hold me your hostage, and that should make us even."

"Yes I do hold you as a hostage," his father almost smiled. "But you must admit, hostages are never treated like the way you are being treated here. It is quite contrary to my reputation in the realm. You might not have heard of the fate of those who have ever dared to cross me."

"I know about it Lord Tywin," Lady Stark spoke without a scrap of fear. "I have heard all about the Reynes of Castamere and happened to Elia and her children." Perhaps the woman had lost her mind after staying away from her home for so long. Even the bravest man wouldn't dare raise his voice in front of the Lord of Casterly Rock. "Lannisters pay their debt, I have heard. But let me make assure you that at times the Starks also pay their debts. This man here, your son," she pointed at Tyrion, "came to my house as a guest. He ate salt and bread in my castle, and there conspired to murder my son."

"Finally we are on the main discussion," Tyrion sneered.

"He had someone push him off the tower," Lady Stark continued. "The fall didn't kill him, so he sent a catspaw with a dagger to kill while he was sleeping. I tried to stop him, and he cut my fingers." She unwrapped her bandages and showed her wounds them. It was for the first time that he had seen her wounds closely, and he couldn't help but gasp.

The skin was cut deep to the bones, and her wounds were leaking blood because of no proper healing and medication. Even his father's eyes constricted at seeing the wounds.

"That man would've killed my son that day, but the wolf tore his throat out. What kind of man would want to kill a sweet boy of seven," she finished, looking at Tyrion with eyes full of accusation and hatred.

Tyrion said in a singsong voice, "I say it again Lady Stark, I didn't have anything to do with your son's fall."

"Wait a moment Tyrion," his father interrupted him, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "How are you so certain that my son here tried to kill your boy? Where did you get the idea that this stunted whoremonger had anything to do with his fall in the first place?"

"Why don't you ask your son," Lady Stark said acridly.

"I am asking you," Lord Tywin retorted with a hint of irritation. "It is you who claims that Tyrion was responsible for your son's condition. Surely you must be having evidence backing your belief."

Catelyn Stark lowered her eyes, refusing to speak. "It was Baelish," Tyrion replied on her behalf, causing the She Wolf to look at him sharply.

"Baelish," his father didn't look much surprised. "That little worm! I'll have his head for this."

Lady Stark was outraged. She argued, "without even questioning your son you will put an innocent man to death. What kind of justice is this?"

"Innocent man," Tyrion scoffed.

"You trust the words of a man who prides on himself for his falseness," Lord Tywin said.

"He is like a little brother to me."

"Little brother," Lord Tywin remarked with a smirk. "Do you know that Lord Baelish claims to have taken both yours and your sister's maidenheads while he was at Riverrun. Last time I checked, people don't claim their elder sister's maidenhead unless they are Valyrian."

 _Oh you clueless old fool_ , Tyrion's eyes were watering from all the effort of keeping himself from laughing out loud.

"How dare you speak such foulness," Catelyn Stark almost looked like a savage wolf.

"I told you the same thing on the High Road Lady Stark," Tyrion said.

"Enough of this," his father said before Lady Stark could mouth a retort. "Come Tyrion, let Lady Stark rest."

Tywin Lannister turned and walked out of the door. Tyrion waddled after him.

"What now father," he asked after catching up to him.

"Ned Stark would be oblivious to his wife's whereabouts until we send someone to tell him," he said. "For now we have much pressing matters. You must have heard about the farce of a letter Joff sent to Ned Stark."

Tyrion sniggered. "Ah, my nephew. And here I was thinking he would make a worse king than his father."

As usual, his father didn't appreciate the jape. "That is not the only folly commited in King's Landing. You dear sister dismissed Ser Barristan from the Kingsguard, and made the Hound one of the Whitecloaks."

Thinking of the Kingsguard without Selmy was like thinking of the North without the Starks. "What are you planning to do father," Tyrion asked.

"I am sending you to King's Landing, to rule in my stead as hand of the King." This shocked Tyrion the most of any thing he had heard. "Keep any stupid action of Cersei and her whelp under check.

Tyrion laughed. "My sister might have a word or two to say about that!"

"Let her say what she likes. Her son needs to be taken in hand before he ruins us all. Where was the sense dismissing Selmy? Yes, the man was old, but the name of Barristan the Bold still has meaning in the realm. He lent honor to any man he served. Can anyone say the same of Sandor Cleagane. Now I see what kind of men give advises to his grace and her mother." He pointed a finger at Tyrion's face. "If Cersei cannot control the boy, you must. And I don't have to tell you what is to be done with this Petyr Baelish, or any other traitor you whiff out." Tyrion knew. "Spikes. Heads. Walls." He said.

"I see you have taken a few lessons from me."

"More than you know, Father," Tyrion answered quietly. "Why me though?" he asked, cocking his head to one side. "Why not my uncle? Why not a…bigger man?"

Lord Tywin spoke abruptly. "You are my son."

Tyrion sneered. "So this is my share of glory from your side, ain't it father? With Jaime in the battlefield, I am all that you have."

"Take it in whatever way you want. You are going to the Capital tomorrow."

* * *

 

The narrow sea was more turbulent than ever that night.

Jon Snow was onboard a small spice ship headed to White Harbor. He himself was headed back to Winterfell after his visit to Dragonstone. He had to admit, before this visit to Dragonstone he had never been involved this much in his family affairs. That's why he readily accepted this task when it was given to him. Lord Wyman had offered a personal ship for Jon, but he had refused.

 _Interesting place, Dragonstone._ Anyone who might visit Dragonstone would find it a dreary place full of gloom. But somehow Jon Snow found peace there. His whole self kind of resonated with the place as soon as he landed from his ship. When the time of his departure came, his body screamed in refusal. It felt like home in Dragonstone.

Stannis Baratheon had first felt slighted over the fact that Lord Eddard had sent his baseborn son to him as an envoy. He did everything as father had asked, and in the end sent a raven describing how everything went by. Stannis was a just and righteous man, a much harder version of father. However the Red Woman had a way too much influence over him, much to the annoyance of Davos Seaworth and many others. Jon couldn't help but empathize with the man.

Maester Luwin had once taught him that people wouldn't be instantly resentful to you if take some of their sources of food or shelter, but they will rise in open rebellion if you attack their faith and beliefs. The way Lady Melissandre talked about other religions and her plans to convert everyone towards 'the Lord of Light' wouldn't do good for Stannis' cause if he wants to be the King. With these thoughts in his head, he slowly drifted to sleep.

He was rudely woken up by someone throwing a pitcherful of water on his face. Jon woke up with a start, and noticed two cloaked figures in his chambers. "Get your ass up vermin," he said in a strange accent.

 _Pirates._  He reached for his dagger and pounced at them, but was thrown back with immense force. He hit his head hard on the wall, and saw stars floating in front of his eyes.

"Oh my, we have got a little fighter here," the other one spoke in mock fear.

"Drag him out and line him up with the others."

He was dragged out of his chambers and lined up with the other crew and passengers of the ship. He knew putting up a fight was futile. There were a total of 8 pirates, and they could easily beat him into a pulp. After noticing the others, Jon figured out that he was most easily subdued of all the sailors of his ship. Most of them were beaten bloody by the pirates.

"Quite a bounty we found on this ship," one of them said.

"Where are the women," another asked.

"You mean those hags. Thet were no good, so we threw them in the ocean. With their faces they wouldn't have brought us a penny. We only have saved these," he pointed towards three small girls, perhaps ten years of age.

The one whom Jon presumed was their leader came near them. He was examining them as if they were some wares on sale in a market. "Lock these in the cellar. They are all to be sold to Meereen."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**Green Fork**

* * *

 

Riding to a task with comrades was a beautiful thing.

There was a feeling of extreme urgency in the air, that was boosting up one and all in the Northern horde. There was a perilious business to be done in the time to come, and everyone was looking forward to it. Everyone was riding with vigor, not wanting to appear weak and be left behind for the task ahead. Never had Robb ever enjoyed riding a horse this much.

The halt at the Twins was shorter than expected. Walder Frey granted them Crossing as soon as Roose Bolton came out after talking to him in his halls. "He grudgingly agreed without being able to 'ask' for anything," Lord Bolton said as they were riding past the Twins. "He has sent his swords under Brynden Tully for Riverrun."

"The Blackfish won't be thinking to take the Lannisters by just 4000 men," Lord Ryswell said.

"5000 actually," Lord Bolton replied. "Some other scattered soldiers also joined them."

Robb had only heard about Ser Bryndren the Blackfish, the champion of the War of Ninepenny Kings. "The best knight I have ever known," his mother used to say.

"We might find those men on our way to Riverrun," he quipped.

"Aye, we surely will," father had replied. "Let's move fast my friends. Riverrun awaits our arrival."

* * *

"It appears that you must take leave from us Lady Stark," Tywin Lannister said after entering her tent. It was the third day of her stay in the Lannister Camp. Catelyn was being provided every luxury gold can provide in her tent, which was only adding up to the already heavy baggage on her mind.

"What do you mean," Catelyn asked. "Are you ending this bloodfeud? Has Ned sent someone to you." She realized that it was a stupid question as soon as she mouthed it. A man like Tywin Lannister would never negotiate with anyone.

"He is coming himself," he replied, "with an army of 30,000 if the scouts are to be believed."

"I don't understand," she responded uncertainly.

"Then let me explain," he replied, his lips curling at the ends. "I am sending you to Riverrun with my swiftest riders. We have Ser Edmure, but on seeing you the castle will yield sooner. What good will this campaign of the Northerners be when Riverrun will fall. Then we can attack the wolves from all directions, from all the strongholds we have captured."

Catelyn lost all reason for a moment. She rose up suddenly, picked a knife from the table and charged on Tywin Lannister. His eyes widened, but he stopped and subdued her easily. Catelyn cursed herself for her miniature strength.

"I thought you would have learned after what happened on the High road that you are useless with a dagger," he whispered, anger evident in his voice. "Perhaps I have been too courteous to not make it clear to you that you ARE my prisoner. I don't want any more of such outbursts," he finished, eyes boring into her.

Catelyn nodded meekly, gritting her teeth. She was cursing this man to the deepest of Seven hells, but she had to admit that he was brilliant. She hated to be a pawn at someone else's disposal, but at the moment she had no other choice. 'Take hope,' she told herself, fighting back tears. 'Ned is still out there. He will save everyone.'

* * *

"My lords," a young scout shrieked while riding towards them. "We saw banners ahead, nearly 2 leagues from here."

"What banners," father asked.

"There were Tully, Frey and some others I don't recognize," he said breathelessly. Perhaps this was his first scouting, his nervousness was an evidence of it. "One of them was of a dancing naked girl."

Everyone laughed. "Piper banners," father told the scout, who nodded in return.

They had just moved past the Oldstones, and this tiding was not a surprise. They had reached Brynden Tully.

They rode forward, and were soon greeted by the sight of the Riverland banners. A man with grey hair rode towards them with two others. Robb didn't have to take a second look to recognize his mother's uncle.

"About time you got here, Lord Stark," Brynden Tully. He was trying hard not to look too pleased, but still a smile was creeping on face.

Ned shook hands with him. "It is good to see you after so many years Lord Tully."

"Aye me too," Ser Brynden cut father off him between. "Now come with me and talk."

* * *

"Brother, it is so good to see you," Renly approached his brother Stannis as he entered the premisis of Storm's End his fire priestess on his side,. In return, Stannis greeted him with his signature cold stare.

"You think you play every part perfectly Lord Renly," Melissandre said, "earlier you attempt to commit treason, and now you play the dutiful younger brother. You are not as good of an actor as you think."

Renly was completely thrown off guard. He stared at the red woman, unable to find words.

"You called the banners," Stannis 'greeted' him.

"Aye I did," Renly said in his most convincing tone. "For you."

"Do you take me for a usurper Renly," Stannis asked, "that I would take the crown of my 'nephew' for myself."

It was then Renly realized the flaw. "But brother,"

"From what I have heard, all the Stormlords had arrived long before I sent out the ravens, and you have sent sent riders to Highgarden too. What were you planning on doing Renly."

"I knew about it all along," Renly said desperately. "Lord Arryn told me."

"Do you think Lord Arryn will tell a merrymaking fool like you about such a grave matter to a merrymaker like you. Do you take me for an idiot Renly. Your mummer's farce is over."

Renly kept looking in his brother's eyes, not daring to say anything. He continued, "whatever you were planning on doing, I forgive you for that. But I won't be as forgiving if I catch another whiff of mischief from your side. Now summon the High lords. We all need to talk."

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

* * *

 

"He's been howling again, this time since nightfall my lady," Maester Luwin told Sansa. "No one was able to silent him."

It was all new to her, and not to mention everything had changed very abruptly. One day she was stitching with the girls, watching Arya and Meera practice swordplay and listening to father, Robb and Jon work; and the very other day she was made the Lady of Winterfell.

Her half brother's direwolf ghost had been howling day and night for two days, even with his brothers and sister around to calm him. He even tried to bite he people who tried to calm him down.

"We can't have him disturb the sleeping people in the night. Have the kennelmasters chain him in the crypts."

"Crypts, my lady," the maester asked, puzzled.

"Yes, that's the only way."

Maester Luwin nodded.

"Maester Luwin, do you think ghost is anxious because Jon is in trouble. Bran's wolf did the same thing when he fell from the tower," this thought was troubling her a lot.

He thought a while. "It can be so," he said, "but I am not sure. The connection your siblings share with your wolves is something none of my learnings can explain. It may some completely different issue. It can be some health affliction which I or the kennelmasters haven't been able to diagnose yet."

"In that case, check him again for such trouble," Sansa amplified her voice, and cringed instantly after. She didn't have a lord's voice, unlike father or even Robb, and giving commands didn't suit her voice at all.

Maester nodded. "There is another matter my lady. A number of smallfolk have come to you seeking redress to their problems. I would advise you to listen to them in the Great hall."

This made her nervous. "Have them gather in the hall then," she squeeked, "I'll be there in a moment."

Maester Luwin gave her a kind smile and said, "don't worry child, I'll be there with. I'll tell you how to talk to them."

Sansa sat on her father's seat in the afternoon, more anxious than ever. Arya and Meera had agreed to sit with her on her request. 'Don't worry,' Arya had told her. 'It would be just like talking to people, except they ask you to solve their problems.'

Sansa had seen father do this a few times, but had never taken any interest. Back then it seemed like a boring task then.

The petitioners came one by one, and were surprised on seeing a maid sitting on the lord's seat. Most of them had petty issues, like repairing a shop at Wintertown or providing men to fend off wolves. Maester Luwin did most of the talking, while Sansa mostly nodded and offered greetings.

"See, it is not that hard," Maester Luwin told her, "they all worship you as their liege, and only want solutions to their troubles."

"What if I give wrong advice," she asked uncertainly.

"I don't think anyone can give wrong advise on these issues," Maester Luwin looked amused. "Have faith in me. You are doing fine as the Lady of Winterfell."

"I am trying," sadness engulfed her, and she lowered her head. 'I owe my father that much,' she thought.

"Why are you troubled child," Maester Luwin looked at her curiously.

"I know what Joffrey wrote to father," Sansa felt her eyes watering. "He wants me back with him, to marry him. That is partly why father went to war, for me."

Maester Luwin looked taken aback. "Joffrey is a foolish boy,trust me he would never have you," he said, looking troubled now. "Even his own kin won't allow him. You are a Stark, daughter of the North. Making any claim on you would bring the whole North's wrath on them."

"Rhaeger Targaryen kidnapped my aunt," Sansa said, trying to convince him, "and then killed her. He didn't think about any of it," Arya and Meera had come to their side. Sansa kept speaking, "that got my grandfather and uncle killed."

"And look where the Targaryens are now," Maester Luwin said in an assuring tone, "either dead or exiled. The Lannisters best remember that for their sake," Maeter looked at her for a moment and again spoke, "and don't think your father has gone to war because of you, wholly or partly. The Lannisters started it, and your father was planning to march long before Joffrey's letter arrived."

Sansa wasn't convinced, but she nodded at Maester Luwin anyway.

Maester smiled walked away, much to her relief and gloom. She had known him since she was a baby, and she liked him a lot, but right now he did not understand her.

There was an awkward silence for a moment. Arya broke it, "I wish I could sit on the Lord's seat."

"I do too," Sansa sighed.

* * *

"You do realize the little blunder you did dear nephew," Tyrion said as he approached Joffrey.

"I did nothing wrong," Joffrey said angrily from his chair. "Sansa Stark is my right. My father saw to it when we went north. It was Eddard Stark who was insolent enough to defy a royal decree."

"If it was so," Tyrion said, trying hard to keep the built up exasperation from his voice, "then perhaps your father, blessed be his memory, would have done something about it."

"He would have if he had some time from his wine," Joffrey shrieked. His father's death was not enough to erase his fear from his mind. "If we allow such things to continue, the realm will laugh at us."

"The realm is laughing at you right now Joff," Tyrion said, "our  _great_  king, who brought the whole north against the Crown because he could not let go one small slight. You letter has destroyed any chance of peace possible with the North. Now they will surely join you uncle Stannis. You remember what happened last time Storm's End and Winterfell fought against the Crown."

"This time it would be different uncle," Joffrey said haughtily. "I have the Lannisters with me, unlike the Targaryens. The Tullys are broken mess, and Lord Varys says that the Arryns won't take the field."

"What about the Tyrells nephew, you don't have the Tyrells with you," Tyrion almost smiled seeing the look on Joffrey's face.

"They'll come to my side," Joffrey said with false confidence. "For their sake I hope they'll come."

Tyrion laughed. "Are you really that stupid nephew. Why would they want to fight a war if they don't gain anything from it. Won't they preserve their men and resources for the coming winter. What are you planning to give the Tyrells in return for their service."

That got him real angry. "I'll give them their life, that would be enough for them."

"What do you plan to do nephew; after defeating the Starks and Stannis, will you march your warbroken forces on the Reach. Do you not know that the Tyrells command the larget standing army in the whole Seven Kingdoms."

Joffrey was at a complete loss of words. He just huffed.

"Hence," Tyrion continued, "to get the Tyrells on your side you will marry Margery Tyrell, and make her your Queen."

"I won't marry anyone but Sansa Stark," Joffrey shouted and glared at Tyrion, daring him to say something.

But Tyrion didn't speak. He responded with as powerful a slap as he could muster, making Joffrey topple from his chair.

Joffrey stood up holding his cheek, his face red as cherry. "You will pay for this. Ser Meryn arrest him."

"Now you would have me arrested heh," Tyrion smirked. "Remember, House Lannister is your only ally, and I am the heir to Casterly Rock."

Joffrey glared at him. "Let the Tyrells be," he said. "I will crush the Starks and marry the Stark girl."

Tyrion groaned. 'Crone, give me wisdom to tame this idiot.'

* * *


	14. Chapter 14

**For those who haven't read the books, the Battle of Green Fork was fought between Stark infantry forces commanded by Lord Roose BOlton and the main Lannister army under Tywin Lannister. The Starks lost the battle, but didn't suffer any huge loss except for the death and capture of some commanders. This battle was fought with the river Green Fork on one side on the other sides were hills.**

**The TV show version sucked big time where Robb Stark sent 2000 men as a diversion. This force was totally annihilated by Tywin.**

**But this time, the Starks have sent way more men to fight Tywin Lannister, along with more cavalry and a loyal and aggressive commander.**

* * *

**Chapter 14**

**Sun of Winter**

They may be two different houses, but Starks and Karstarks shared blood ties since centuries. They were kin, and there was no greater bond than this. That was probably why Lord Eddard Stark gave the command of his army to Rickard Karstark, rejecting other battle commanders like Roose Bolton and Galbart Glover, and also the fact that Rickard and Ned went way back. They had fought together in two great wars.

Right now Rickard Karstark's mind was buzzing with thoughts as he was marching down the Kingsroad along with other commanders; Wylis Manderly and Halys Hornwood and his 3 sons. His thoughts were making him unaware of what his two sons were talking beside him, but from what little he had heard, he figured that they were also thinking the same thing he was thinking.

His force was 23,000 strong; 22,000 foot consisting of swordsmen, archers and pikemen; and 1,000 horse; with 300 of what one could call heavy cavalry among them. This force was too large to be a diversion force, as his rivals has relished in calling it back at Moat Coalin. Tywin Lannister had about 25,000 men, but he had 8 times more cavalry than him, not to mention way more armored knights which would be the main strength of House Lannister in this battle.

'What would Tywin Lannister be thinking,' he asked himself. He would be expecting the whole northern host of 30,000 to hit his own 25,000; and would be having shrewd plans of his own for the Northerners. However, the many of the complexions of his plans may be negated out of haste if Rickard steals a night's march on him. Somehow he had to make sure that at any cost they shouldn't be discovered by Lannister army until they at their doorstep.

A crunching noise from below distracted him. He looked down and saw a partridge's nest broken under his horse's hooves, along with the eggs.

Eddard laughed, "not a good sign before the fight, eh father," he chortled. But Rickard wasn't paying attention. Thought were appearing in his mind,, thoughts that weren't there before.

"Halt," he shouted, making his host stop.

All the commanders gathered. "

"We will make our battle plans here. Torrhen," he called his other son, whom he considered was the smarter one of the three. "I have a task for you."

* * *

Moonless nights were a bitch for the scouts. Even though it wasn't one of them, one could still not call it a well lit one. The crescent moon didn't do much illumination.

A crimson cloaked young scout stood atop a hill with his two comrades, looking towards the North along the Kingsroad, searching for any movements with his ears. Eyes were useless in such darkness, and power of listening did most of the work.

He strained his eyes hard, looking for any signs of movement. He had been taught that while the army wears chain mail or plate armor, the infiltrators usually wear goat pelts to avoid light being reflected off their body.

That was exactly what the Stark infiltrators were wearing that nights, who were doing their job assigned to them pretty noiselessly, right under the nose of the young scouts.

'This is useless,' the scout thought. 'No one is coming up here in the dead of the night. The outriders will be out before dawn, and besides I should get some sleep.. The battle might be tomorrow. I need to save my strength.' He shared his thoughts with others, who all agreed and descended from the hill.

Perhaps the gods had granted them more days to live, or not. About an hour or two after they had descended, the hill was overrun by men in black shrouds. "That went well," Torrhen Karstark remarked, and the Karstark men hid themselves among the bushes of the hill.

* * *

The outriders of House Lannister knew their job, ride along the Kingsroad and look for any signs of the enemy host. It was still night, but the outriders were warned that sometimes the enemy tries to steal a night's march on them. The weather was pleasant, and they rode fast, enjoying the cold wind striking their faces.

And then out of nowhere, they were falling.

* * *

"They are here my lord," the squire came running to Ser Adam Marbrand.

Ser Marbrand awoke with a start. 'Already,' he thought. 'I had heard they were a day's march away.'

But of course they stole a night's march. He gave a small laugh, and grimaced on noticing his morning breathe. "How many," he asked the squire gruffly.

"The scouts say they are about 25,000, and mostly foot and about 1000 horse. They are less than a half mile from here."

This got him angry, "and you are waking me up now," he raged.

"No one discovered them my lords. None of the outriders returned. They were probably killed by the Starks."

Marbrand shook his head. Scouts and outriders killed. This can't be Ned Stark's work. He has got someone more cunning than him, probably that Blackfish.

"Any news from Riverrun," he asked.

"No my lord."

This was looking grimmer and grimmer. "Bring me some water, and then my sword and armor."

* * *

Ser Kevan hurriedly walked out of his tent and was greeted by the Mountain being rebuked by his brother, who was fully armored.

"Go and ask Ser Marbrand to lead the the armored knights in the front lines, and  _you_  will be among them." he almost shouted at Mountain, who cowered under the piercing gaze of Tywin Lannister.

"Why the knights in front brother," Kevan asked.

"They say they are bringing an infantry host. For now this is the best move."

* * *

Lord Rickard Karstark looked at the battle formations infront of him, and laughed loudly. This was exactly what he had expected. Killing the outriders would have been a hard job, but it became easy once his trap was set, and worked splendidly even in the dark hours of night. The knights iwith their long lances and glittering armor were all set in the front lines, and collectively looked like a steel fist.

But Lord Karstark knew how to break this fist.

Rickard wore his iron helm along with the other commanders. "Charge," he bellowed, and his army rushed forward, his 1000 horses first followed by the foot.

* * *

"Has Stark lost his wits after gaining one trick on us," Tywin Lannister said as he looked at the unfolding battle from top a hill. "No matter how hard that army charges, they can never defeat my charging knights."

No reply came from his men, though he wasn't expecting one. These men were followers, devoid of any strategic thought in their heads.

Archer fired from both sides, killing Starks and Lannisters respectively. Tywin eyes scanned the battlefield in bewilderment, and then something happened that he had never expected.

' _Seven hells_ ,' they had fallen into a trap.

* * *

Kevan Lannister already had the taste of victory on his lips, as he stood watching Stark infantry charging against the armored Lannister. 'Is this the best you can do wolves,' he thought. It was then he noticed that Stark army had suddenly slowed down their charge. 'What in seven hells they think they are doing.'

And then, a moment later, everything was chaos.

It appeared as if an invisible force had hit the charging cavalry from in front. With a loud neigh of their horses, almost whole lines of the cavalry went down, one after another, and those who didn't go down stumbled over those who had. The Lannisters were stunned, until they were brought back to life by the whistling sound of arrows being fired at the fallen cavalry from the adjoining hill, and the sight of infantry charging down it. Only the last two lines of knights returned back unscathed to regroup.

"Charge," Kevan shouted hastily, and his 300 knights and the whole of Lannister cavalry rushed forwards infantry rushed forwards. He knew exactly what had happened to his cavalry, and this won't happen again.

* * *

'Caltrops,' Tywin knew the instant he saw the whole commotion. He knew that almost all of his heavy cavalry has been rendered useless. "We need to move," Tywin Lannister commanded his host. "Let us skin these wolves. The spikes may have broken his knights, but now they won't be problem any longer.

"You," he told a knight, "take 600 horse with you and kill those damned archers on the hill."

* * *

Stark swordmen was slaughtering the fallen Lannister cavalry, and the bowmen on the hill had turned their attention to the charging reminder of Lannister army. So far, Rickard's plans had worked splendidly.

Another battalion of Lannister knights was rushing towards the commotion, which also included those who had survived the caltrops.

They ran faster, hoping to meet the enemy before they reach and overwhelm their swordsmen who were busy killing the fallen knights.

* * *

Clegane rose from his fallen horse, and soon discovered the cause of their fall. The whole land was strewn with iron spikes, which had gotten into the horses' feet. "Cravens," he shouted, and was soon cut off when he was surrounded that he was surrounded by five Stark swordsmen. Gregor laughed a booming laugh and threw himself on them.

Soon all five of them were lying dead at his feet. The Mountain then pulled out his enormous greatsword and started hacking his way way through the wolves.

Suddenly he heard a rumble, and turned to see the larger remains of Stark army charging on them. A horse came on him and knocked him down. The rider descended and brought his war hammer down on Clegane's strength with all his strength. Clegane tried to stop him, but his hand only got in the way of the powerful blow.

"I killed the Mountain," shouted his assilant, and that was the last thing Gregor Clegane heard before he fainted.

* * *

"I killed the Mountain," Harrion Karstark shouted while brandishing the Mountain's head on a spike. 'This was not good,' Kevan thought. The Mountain was a fearsome symobol of the Lannister army, and his very presence not only boosted his army but also intimidated the opposition.

He continued cutting down Stark horsemen and infantry, waiting desperately for his brother to arrive.

He did arrive after a while. Tywin Lannister didn't bring as many horses as he had, which he realized were sent to deal with the archers on the hill.

The heartless Lannister soldiers again gained hope on seeing their commander, and fought more fiercely, but the damage was done. They had lost many of their knights, and the Starks had more infantry than the Lannisters.

"Fall back," he heard someone among the Northerners shout, and soon enough the wolves were falling back. 'This could work,' he thought, but he wondered why they were falling back. There was a small chance of the Starks turning craven. May be they want to regroup.

Rickard was taking immense pride in his whole battle scheme. While falling back, Stark army was thinner and less in number along the river bank. The Lannister fools took his bait.

"Chase after them," he heard Tywin shout, and the Lannisters chased them, obedient to the core. Kevan had lost his horse, and was not able to see ahead. "No," he heard his brother shout frantically, "stay away from the river. AWAY FROM THE RIVER!"

Kevan couldn't see what was happening, so he decided to fall back to his brother and get a horse from there.

"Move," he commanded one of the Lannister cavalry, who gave his horse to him. The sight that greeted him was not a welcome one at all.

A large part of Lannister infantry was flanked by the Stark army, and were being pushed towards the flowing river. A number of soldiers were falling in the river.

"No! Fall back," he shouted; and was followed by same command of other battle commanders.

"We have to move Kevan," Tywin Lannister shouted. "Fall back to the Ruby Ford. TO THE RUBY FORD."

For the first time in his life, Tywin Lannister was losing a battle.

* * *


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**Wolf and the Lion**

* * *

 

They chased them for some time when Rickard voice boomed. "Halt! Pull back."

"But we are winning," his son Eddard protested. He was not the only one, many men looked at Rickard, perplexed at their commander's decision.

"I said pull back," Rickard repeated, this time in a more firm tone.

The Stark army halted and cheered loudly, celebrating their triumph. "What was all that about," Robett Glover asked.

"Did you look at them," Rickard replied, pointing towards the direction in which the Lannisters had fled. "They still have a lot of their cavalry left, and we don't have many horsemen left, and our men are exhausted from the night's march. They were slowly gaining away from us. If we had continued chasing, they would have reformed and charged on our disorganized army. The work is done. We have won the battle. Now it is time"

"Look," a soldier shouted wildly, pointing his finger towards the hill beside the battlefield. Everyone's gaze followed his finger, and their saw 600 armored knights charging down the hill.

'No, perhaps later' Rickard thought. "Pikes in front. Archers prepare yourselves."

"Father," his son Harrion replied in anguish, Harrion the Mountain Slayer, as the men were calling him. "We have no archers left!"

'Shit,' Rickard had completely forgotten about the archers on the hill. These horsemen were probably sent up the hill to take care of them, and judging by the sight in front of Rickard, they had succeeded in their task. "Pikemen! Brace yourselves," Rickard shouted.

A hill down charge of armored cavalry was too much for the pikemen. They were all thrown back, allowing the Lannister cavalry to cut through them and the disarrayed Stark forces.

"Take them down," Rickard shouted as the Lannister knights moved, some being skewered by pikes or swords along the way. Even after that, many of the Lannister knights made it to the front lines of battle commanders. Unable to route and charge though the army, the Stark horsemen fell easily to the rampaging Lannister cavalry. Rickard saw two horsemen coming at him. He immediately descended from his horse and rolled down, and hacked at the horses' legs with his longsword. The knights fell down with a loud neigh of their horses.

Rickard watched in horror as Wylis Manderly, Halys Hornwood and his son Eddard were cut down by the knights. Out of the charging 600, about 80 made their way through the Stark army.

"Send for the healers," Rickard shouted.

* * *

**Whispering Wood**

* * *

There he was, the Kingslayer. The dimlight moonlight was enough for his golden armor and hair to shine brightly. He came riding with 150 men. Like the Blackfish had predicted, Ser Jamie had taken the bait.

Father sounded his warhorn, and his men marched to surround him from one side, Robb himself one of them. Lord Bolton and Maege Mormont both sounded their horns, and they moved forward too.

The battle was on.

It was nothing like the practice with wooden and blunted swords which he used to do with Theon and Jon in the practice yard of Winterfell. It was a matter of life and death, and every man hacking at him wanted to take his head off.

Panic and urgency rushed through his body, making him not care about the fact that death was all around them. Sounds of battle cries, anguished groans, clashing longswords and cracking lances echoed in his ears, yet his mind was solely focused on the Lannister men coming at him, eager for taking the glory of killing the Stark heir themselves. He was not alone though. A number of highbornes had asked for the honor of riding with the young wolf, as people had began calling him. He was well aware of SmallJon Umber slashing at the enemy with his greatsword, Dacey Mormont cracking skull after skull with her spiked mace, Daryn Hornwood in fierce one on one with a Lannister knight and Theon Greyjoy fighting just behind him.

He saw Ser Jamie cutting down men around, a perfect amalgamation of fierceness and grace. Robb himself had killed several men when he saw father along with many others circling the Kingslayer. He rushed forward for their aid.

The look on the young lion's face was terrible to behold. Ser Jamie looked around and saw his foes everywhere. His eyes then turned to father. At first Robb thought that the Kingslayer was about to charge on him, but instead he turned and rode past Robb towards RIverrun, killing men along his way.

Robb could only watch as he split Daryn Hornwood with a blow of his golden longsword, and rode towards Riverrun.

'Has the Kingslayer turned craven,' Robb wondered. He thought of chasing the Lannister commander, but heard his father's cry of 'Reform and pursue,' over his thoughts.

* * *

Theon knew the battle was won, the only part that remained was capturing the Kingslayer. He rode alongside anyone, and were soon greeted by the sight of the great castle of Riverrun, the seat of power of House Tully, Lord Paramounts of the Riverlands.

Pikemen were forming lined in front of them, eager to break the charge of the Northern knights.

"Attack," he heard Lord Stark's cry.

Theon shouted a wordless battle cry and urged his horse to move at the highest possible speed. As he got nearer he saw the arrangement of the Lannister siege.

The whole of Kingslayer's army was divided into three camps as the scouts had told them. While Ser Brynden had already already overrun the Northern camp, the sound of battle had awoken the other two camps, and sight of their battle commander returning to them unscathed would definitely have boosted them up.

Arrows whished towards them, but most were repelled by the plate armor worn by the Stark knights and horsemen.

And suddenly, the Lannister lines were in chaos. The castle of Riverrun had joined the battle too. They started firing arrows and pelting stones on the defensive lines of the Lannister army.

The Starks soon met the Lannisters, hacking the infantry and cavalry alike, killing anyone coming at them with arms. Theon saw some men jumping in the Red Fork and fleeing the battle, he let them go. Somehow he was feeling pity on the overwhelmed Lannisters.

"STARK," he heard a shout, and turned to see Jamie Lannister holding a dagger at the throat of none other than Lady Catelyn Stark.

"Ned," she cried in anguish, yet she looked relieved on seeing them.

"You took me unaware. A craven's trick, but yet well executed," he shouted at Lord Stark, who had gone very stiff all of a sudden at the sight of his hostage wife. "Now let my army and me pass through, and I will spare you wife's throat. I mean what I say Stark, don't take it as a bluff."

"Everything is lost to you Ser Jamie," Lord Stark replied. "Most of army has either fallen of already fled. Look at the Southern camp. There is not a single man left there."

"You mean to take me hostage. I don't plan on being in chains," the Kingslayer protested.

"If you dare hurt my wife. You will be in a grave rather than chains," Lord Stark replied in a now composed tone.

"You think I am stalling. I AM NOT! LET US PASS STARK!" Jamie's voice was hoarse from all the shouting he had done.

Reminder of the Lannister army had assembled to the right of him. Lannister pressed his dagger against Lady Stark's throat, and Theon saw blood trailing down her neck.

Theon pulled out his bow from his back, and started sneaking behind the Kingslayer. All he needed was a good shot.

Soon he was behind the Lannisters, hidden behind a birch tree. He loaded an arrow in his bow, and watched the whole scene from there.

"Tread carefully Jamie," Lord Stark said. "One bad move and you are dead."

"You think I fear your sword."

"I know you don't. But everyone fears my sigil," ," Lord Bolton said in his spider thin voice, pointing at the carved flayed man on his armor. "You won't get a clean death Lannister. Remember, our blades are sharp."

At some other occasion Lord Stark might have criticised Roose Bolton, but this wasn't one of those occasions. Theon moved towards the Kingslayer and drew his bow, aiming it at the chink of his armor. He prepared himself for shooting.

'Hey,' a man's surprised call came from the Lannister lines; Theon's gaze jolted towards the call. Sure enough, a Lannister man had spotted him. It was only a moment or two later that he realized that his arrow had left his bow.

 

* * *

Robb didn't know what to do. His mother's life was at stake on one hand, and on the other they needed the Kingslayer. The reason for this whole mess was to capture him. Robb looked around desperately, searching for any way to solve this. And out of nowhere, he heard a scream. He looked ahead towards its source.

One moment the Kingslayer was standing, threatening his father, and next moment he was on the ground clutching at his shoulder, his mother had fallen too with him. Robb was horror stricken when he saw more closely. An arrow had passed through a chink of Kingslayer's armor and shoulder flesh, and had sunk into his mother's chest. He sucked in a deep breath, and ran towards him mother. He had lost his horse during the battle. Several blows were inflicted on him as he rushed forward, but he didn't care. He only wanted to get to his mother.

" _Mother_ ," he shouted. He pulled out the arrow and gave the Kingslayer a powerful kick on the face. He moved his mother's side and realized that his father was already there.

"Don't worry Robb. She can make it," father said, looking horror stricken. "Call the maesters," father shouted frantically to his men, who moved away swiftly. He looked around for masters, and then spotted Theon, looking dumbstruck, holding a bow in his hand. Rage took over him. "I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU," Robb roared.

Theon looked guilty, but that did not matter to Robb. He ran towards him, hungering for his blood.

Greyjoy ran and jumped in the river, the Tumblestone's swift flow doing the job of saving him from Robb's wrath.

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

**C** **hapter 16**

**Turning Point**

* * *

War was nothing new to Ned. He had fought in the Robert's Rebellion to avenge his family, and had raised his banners again to fight the Greyjoys. He knew what it was like to lose friends and comrades in war. But what happened a fortnight ago was something he had not imagined in the wildest of his dreams.

She was dying, he knew that as soon as he saw her wound. He didn't want to believe it then.  _We all deceive ourselves, when we want to believe._ "I tried everything my lord," the master told him, "but I can't save Lady Catelyn. Her left lung has been punctured. No one has a cure for that."

Ned never wept for Cat, just like he had never shed a tear for Brandon, father or Lyanna. He was a Stark of Winterfell, son of winter; and grief froze inside him before it even showed. Robb's reaction was different though. He was just a lad, and had wolf blood coursing through body. His grief was coming out in the form of anger. Ned had not missed the tone of his voice when he had ran towards Theon Greyjoy, and Jory had later found him swinging his sword at an oak tree near the castle.

Catelyn died a day after the Battle, her body giving up to her injury. She never once gained consciousness before she died, and Ned realized painfully that their goodbye at Winterfell when he left to be Hand was their final goodbye. All his lords offered their condolences, and had sent men out to bring Theon Greyjoy's head to him.

"Theon shot her _,"_ Robb had bellowed to them. "I don't want his head. I want him alive so that I can lop his head off myself." Ned attention turned towards his son, who had just lost his mother recently, and was having a very hard time dealing with it.

Ned walked towards him. "Robb," he said, putting his hand on his shoulder.

Robb turned to him, and Ned saw his bloodshot eyes. "I had told him at Winterfell. He did the same thing when that wildling threatened to hurt Bran," Robb had completely broken down again, and his broken voice was agony to Ned. "He never listened back then. If only I had.."

"Don't blame yourself Robb," Ned cut him in between. "Your mother wouldn't want you to become like this."

"How do you know what she would want? She is  _DEAD_ ," Robb shouted at his father, and stormed out of the chamber. Ned often tried to distract himself, but all he could think about was his lady wife, and the torturing thought that he would never see her again. There was an awkward silence, which was broken by Lord Cerwyn , his closest bannerman. "He will come around my lord," he assured Ned. "The lad just lost his mother. It is natural that he is behaving like this."

Ned just nodded, not distracted from his original thoughts. Edmure Tully walked in, his ragged face etched with grief. "Somehow, the news about Cat has slipped to my father, and his condition has worsened," he moaned, drawing concerned looks from everyone. Edmure looked at Ned. "We have to arrange for her funeral Lord Stark."

"I will have her carried back to Winterfell, where she will be buried in the crypts," Ned offered.

"No," Edmure gave Ned a strange look.

"She is a Stark. This was how it was always meant to be," Ned said.

"No it was not," Edmure shouted. "She was never meant to die like this. She was supposed to die old at Winterfell, after seeing her own grandchildren. She was not supposed to die of a 'stray arrow', at an age of only four and thirty," he finished with a pained sarcasm in his voice. "This is her homeland, and she will have a Tully funeral."

"She died a Stark of Winterfell, and will rest there only," Ned said, his thoughts still more on Cat than this conversation. "There won't be any more talk about this matter."

"Why do care so much Stark," Edmure gave Ned a venomous look. "You don't seem to grieve for my sister, who died because she tried to bring justice for your son. And here you are sitting with your Northmen, pretending that nothing ever happened. My sister loved you with all her heart Stark. Did you ever love her?!"

Ned kept looking at Edmure, unable to find words to say to his hot headed good brother. He was in too much grief to even consider what he had accused him of.

Brynden Tully stood up. "My lord Stark, it would be wise to have Lady Catelyn cremated at Riverrun. We all are here, and I don't think you are planning to go back to the North any time soon."

Ned considered Brynden for a moment, and gave his consent with a nod. "Arrange for it tomorrow," he added. The Blackfish then turned to Edmure and walked him out, the latter still tense from his heated outburst.

"We will cremate Lady Catelyn tomorrow," he addressed his bannermen, who nodded solemnly. "For now you can retire to your rooms and rest."

* * *

Ned didn't realize that it was morning already. Catelyn had haunted him the whole night, no matter how hard he tried to forget her.  _I am the commander of my host, I have to be thinking straight. There will be time to grieve later._ He made himself fresh and walked out of his chambers in the open. He noticed people pointing high up at the sky; and when he looked he saw what had drawn everyone's attention. There was a red comet in the sky,its fierce aura visible despite the light of the sun.

_Even the Gods take note of the blood shed here._

It was Robb who shot the arrow at the raft, which was soon engulfed in flames, producing clouds of smoke. Ned couldn't bear to look at the raft. Even though she was dead, Ned kept thinking that the flame must be hurting her. He couldn't help but picture the ghastly image of the fire burning her beautiful face, her thick auburn hair that he had loved _so_  much. Memories flashed in front of his eyes, all the time he had spent with her and marveled in her presence, ever since their wedding; her smile ever so soothing to him, her kisses, the times they had made love.

_Gone. Dead._

Robb was howling like his wolf. Ned wondered who would console his children at Winterfell when they hear the news of their mother's death. Cat had loved her children. She had loved him too, as he did her, with all his heart. Now she was gone.

And suddenly he felt tears flooding down his face. He felt their salty taste on his lips. He never wiped or tried to stop them, nor did they stop falling. He had never shed tears for anyone, and these were probably the once he had saved during his lifetime.

* * *

Theon was an excellent swimmer. Ironborn learnt swimming at a very early age, but his skills didn't come much in use in the swift waters of Green Fork. There were time during his journey downstream when he had nearly drowned, and had seen a bright light flashing in front of his eyes. Had he not untied his armor during his 'swim' he would have surely drowned.

He got washed up at the shore nearly 3 leagues from Riverrun. He laid in the mud for a while, pondering over what had come to pass at Riverrun, and more importantly what were his options.

He thought of Lady Catelyn, and prayed that the gods might make her well again. His thoughts then went to the image of Robb running at him, holding his sword like a butcher's cleaver with murder in his eyes. He could not go back to the Starks, they would kill him at sight after what he had done.

And suddenly he realized that he was free from the Starks, free to go home and do whatever he pleased. Soaked and tired, he stood up and started walking away from the shore. After walking for a while he became more aware of the fact that his clothes were soaking wet and he was shivering.

 _I will have to get rid of these if I want to survive. The cold will kill me._ He kept walking, and soon saw a peasant's home where children were playing in the porch.

He walked towards the home. The children noticed him and ran inside, calling their father.

Soon a tall burly man walked out. "What do you want," he asked roughly as he looked him over.

Theon boiled inside on seeing the insolence of this peasant. "I want some clothes, and a fire."

"Piss off," the man spat.

"But I will die of the cold," Theon pleaded. "You have to help me."

"Your death ain't my problem," the peasant gave a wicked grin and started walking back to his house.

Theon acted on pure impulse. He pulled out his dagger, pounced at the peasant and buried the dagger in his back. The peasant gave a howl and fell down limply.

Theon turned to the house. The man was rich for a peasant. He walked inside and saw a woman holding out a cleaver to him, the children behind her.

"Get out of here and I won't shout," she shrieked, giving away her timidness. Theon smirked. He knew there was no on nearby to hear her calls for help.

"I only want clothes and food," Theon said and turned his attention to the provisions in the house.

The woman charged at him with a cleaver in her hand, only to be thrown back by the obviously stronger Theon. She hit a wall and fainted as blood started trickling from her temple. Her whelps yelped in fear and ran towards her, and started shaking her out of her unconsciousness.

Theon selected the best of the their clothes and ate the best of their food. Feeling pleased and ashamed of himself, Theon Greyjoy walked out in the open.

* * *

It was dusk already at Riverrun, and all the Lord bannermen had gather in the godswood of Riverrun. Father was praying for a long time, his eyes closed and lips mumbling in silent prayer. Robb instantly felt bad for being rude at his father earlier, and decided to apologize to him later.

Later the bannermen gather around a table. Lord Bolton started, "we have got splendid news from the South my lord Stark. Rickard Karstark has defeated Lord Tywin in open battle."

The lords were stunned including Robb, but the rest of the men cheered loudly. "How did that happen," father asked, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Apparently, Rickard broke the charge of Lannister knights by strewing the ground with iron spikes. Then the Lannister army was flanked by Rickard on the riverside. Many of commanders were killed, including Ser Adam Marbrand and Gregor Clegane. Almost whole of the Lannister cavalry has been wiped out, and the Lannister numbers have been reduced by half. Tywin Lannister got away though."

"The Mountain is dead," father reflected on that. Clegane deserved a messier death than death on the battlefield, after all he had done. "I hope Rickard has not burned his body," father said. "The Mountain's death may be…crucial for us."

"Aye my lord," Roose replied. "We suffered loses too. We lost 6000 men, including all of our cavalry, pike men and archers. Halys Hornwood and Torrhen Karstark were slain too."

Everyone lowered their heads, mourning for the victorious dead. The talk then turned to the future course.

"We declare for Stannis. He can give us justice," Maege Mormont declared to the riverlords. "He may be a hard man, but he is as just as a man can be."

Many lords nodded in consent, but Wendel protested. "I won't take Stannis as my king. We all have heard of the news of his red bitch. She would burn us all alive if we didn't take up her god."

"Stannis won't allow that," Lord Glover said. "He is a just man."

"That's what we thought of Aerys, and then Robert too. Look how good they turned out."

"Do you want to take Joffrey or the Lannisters as your king," Maege said.

Suddenly the GreatJon stood up. "My lords," he boomed. "Here is what I say to these two kings!" He spat. "Joffrey is nothing to me, nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine, from some flowery seat in the South? What do they know of the Wall or the wolfswood or the barrows of the First Men? Even their gods are wrong. The Others take the Lannisters too, I've had a bellyful of them." He reached back over his shoulder and drew his immense two-handed greatsword. "Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we married, and the dragons are all dead!" He pointed at father with the blade. "There sits the only king I mean to bow my knee to, m'lords," he thundered. "The King in the North!"

And he knelt, and laid his sword at his father's feet. Father stood up. He wanted to say something, but Lord Ryswell cut him off.

"I'll have peace on those terms," Lord Ryswell said. "They can keep their red castle and their iron chair as well." He eased his longsword from its scabbard. "The King in the North!" he said, kneeling beside the Greatjon.

Maege Mormont stood. "The King of Winter!" she declared, and laid her spiked mace beside the swords. Father was looking at them stunned. The river lords were rising too, Tully, Blackwood, Bracken and Mallister, houses who had never been ruled from Winterfell, yet Robb watched them rise and draw their blades, bending their knees and shouting the old words that had not been heard in the realm for more than three hundred years, since Aegon the Dragon had come to make the Seven Kingdoms one… yet now were heard again, ringing from the timbers of RIverrun's hall:

"The King in the North!"

"THE KING IN THE NORTH!"

* * *

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**Bowed, Bent, Broken**

* * *

 

Even though his jaw had started to hurt, Lord Tywin Lannister couldn't help but grit his teeth while sitting in the war council.

They had camped at the Ruby Ford, and this time Tywin himself had picked the scouts and watchmen. All his 'fellow' bannermen were going on with their rambles about what had gone amiss, or simply pointing at their obvious plight in this war. Only his brother was silent, his head lowered. After all the time he had spent with Tywin, Kevan knew when to talk and when to stop talking.

After a while, Tywin decided that he had had enough of it. He raised his hand, and all the lords of Westerlands grew silent, their eyes on their liege.

"I've had enough from all of you all," Tywin spoke, his eyes boring into his bannermen. "Leave now and depart to your chambers. We will talk tomorrow. Kevan, you stay."

Everyone left except Kevan, whose gaze was now on Tywin after a long time. "They have my son, Kevan," Tywin said, "They have Jaime."

"He won't be there for long my lord," Kevan said. "We will figure something out."

"There's nothing to figure out," Tywin lost whatever little composure he had. "We have no leverage. We don't have any hostage left, and if you think that we can bribe our enemy, then let me remind you who we are up against. They are the Starks of Winterfell, and for them Lannister gold is worth the same as aurochs dung." Tywin paused for a moment, feeling a vein pulsating in his temple. Kevan kept looking at him meekly.

"This will be my last war," Tywin continued. "The war for which I would be remembered after I am gone, win or lose. I have put too much trust in fools like Marbrand and Clegane, and that has been my undoing. A meager Northern lord has thrown me back."

Kevan didn't reply, but kept gazing at him. He was ever the follower, a dutiful younger brother. "We have about 9,000 men left here.I have sent a raven to Daven at Casterly Rock to raise a new host."

"That is good to hear my lord," Kevan finally spoke.

Tywin gave him a curt nod. His thoughts then turned to the Battle of Riverrun. "I never expected my son to act like a fool, riding out only with a few men. But who am I to judge him, I who put faith on men fit only for brutalizing smallfolk."

There was a brief silence, which was broken by Kevan. "What should we do now brother?"

Tywin considered Kevan's question and spoke "You must have heard about Stannis Baratheon's claims and the filthy lies he is spreading about my children." Kevan nodded, turning his gaze away from Tywin for a moment. "He has gathered all the Storm Lords," Tywin continued speaking, "and he might think of marching on the Capital, with me here tangling with the Wolf."

"You suggest we march to King's Landing."

"That would give the Starks time to lick their wounds clean. No, we will station and garrision at Harrenhal, from where I can monitor the Starks and Stannis Baratheon both. The new Lannister host will arrive there only. A lot has gone amiss brother, and things have to be set right. The Lannister name has been besmirched by these trouts and wolves, for which I won't ever forgive them. I assure you Kevan, when I am done with them, the lion will be as much feared as it has always."

"I take the same vow brother," Kevan replied. "I will aid in every way to restore the name of House Lannister."

Tywin nodded. "Any news from the Capital?"

"There have been a few tidings. Littlefinger has been thrown in the black cells by Tyrion, the Queen has refused to punish. She says that Baelish is too important for the Crown. The King has refused to take the orders he gave to Eddard Stark, or agreeing to marry Margery Tyrell. He commands you to reform and crush the Starks."

"Commands me, huh," Tywin scoffed "It is hard to tame a fool once you have made him the King of the Seven Kingdoms," Tywin said without any hint of fondness. "We should call it a night. Go and rest Kevan, you're going to need it. I have a task for you in the morrow." Kevan immidiately sat up straight. Tywin felt his lips curling up slightly on his brother's antics. He asked, "What have you heard of the sellsword companies of Essos?"

* * *

Doran Martell held the Northerners' letter in his hand, while his minions waited for his reply. Prince Oberyn Martell was looking at his older brother, fire in his jet black eyes.

"What would you have me do Oberyn," Doran finally spoke. "March on the Lannisters. And why, because some Northmen killed Gregor Clegane on the battlefield? Do you think that Harrion Karstark killed the Mountain to avenge Elia?"

"They haven't," Oberyn agreed, "but the Starks are winning The Karstarks are bringing Clegane's head to us as we speak. I have been wanting to lay my hands on the Lannisters, and the Starks have given us the opportunity."

"We will get back at the Lannisters Oberyn," Doran spoke from his chair. "You know that as well as I do. The Starks, do you think they are worth it?"

"Viserys Targaryen is dead. Killed in Vaes Dothrak by the horselords. Are you planning to seat his corpse on the Iron Throne?"

"His sister still lives."

"Who will live her whole life being some horselord's whore. Our grand plans seem to be running out of energy brother?"

Doran replied after a while. "You are my greatest asset brother. I would not have you throwing your life for nothing."

Oberyn chuckled. "Don't worry about it Doran. I don't intend to die for a long time. Oberyn rose from his seat.

"The murder of Elia and her children, that was the doing of Tywin Lannister. Robert was a drunk fool, but Eddard Stark strongly condemned Lord Tywin and Ser Jaime, and demanded punishment. Sit here if you like brother, and keep making these grand schemes which you love so much. I am leaving for the North in a fortnight, with fighting men who support me. I will extract my vengeance from the Lannisters, vengeance for Elia and her children."

* * *

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**Innocence**

* * *

 

Arya knelt in front of the Heart tree, her lips mumbling a prayer. She had prayed with her mother in the Sept too when she was alive and well, but the Godswood was the place where she felt most connected to her faith.

 _Old gods, keep my mother happy and safe with you,_ she prayed.  _Burn Theon Greyjoy in the deepest of the Seven Hells._ But then she realized that the Old faith doesn't have seven hells. She didn't even know whether it had any hell or paradise, and she never bothered to know. The concept of hell had always felt very real to Arya. Growing up with a father like Lord Eddard Stark, she strongly believed in justice, whether earthly or unearthly. Those who don't get punished by the swing of her father's sword, must be punished after they die and go to the gods. She continued her prayer.  _Have my mother watch over me,_ she mumbled.  _One day I will make her as proud as Sansa used to. Bring Jon home safely. Protect him from harms._

"Hodor," she heard a groan from the entrance of the Godswood, and instantaneously she cringed. Hodor was good at heart, but his constant Hodoring often got under her skin. She never understood why Bran, Rickon or even Meera used to like him so much.

Soon the source of the voice came into view. Hodor was carrying Bran on his back, as he always used to ever since his fall. Arya forced a smile.

"Rickon was looking for you," Bran said. "He still keeps asking for her."

Arya pursued her lips. "What did Maester Luwin say to him?"

"He gave him more sweet. Then he sent him to Sansa."

Even though she was his big sister, Sansa was acting more like a mother to Rickon, for which everyone was grateful. Only she was able to calm him down when he used to get restless. Sansa had changed a lot. Between her sessions with Maester Luwin, her duties around the castle and her time time with Rickon she hardly had any time for herself.

Hodor set Bran down, and he crawled to her side, gazing deeply in the black pond.

"You shouldn't look in it," Arya quipped. "It makes you feel dizzy."

"I know," Bran said still looking in the water. "Old Nan said that old Kings of Winter were laid to rest in this pond before the crypts were built. May be that is why it makes us dizzy."

"Old Nan is stupid," Arya huffed, and hearing about the Kings of Winter reminded her of her father's crowning.

"Princess Arya Stark of Winterfell. That has a pretty nice ring to it. Don't you think?"

Bran gave her a strange look. "Seems mismatched. There has never been a Princess Arya Stark before. Arya is a Southron name."

"There is always afirst time for everything," Arya remarked. Bran turned his gaze towards the pond again. There was brief pause, which was broken by Bran.

"Arya?"

"What?"

"I miss her a lot. I can't think of anything else. Even with the Maester's draughts I can't sleep at night," he rambled.

"Same happened with me Bran. Still happens. But she is with the gods now, and father will find and kill Theon."

"You don't understand," Bran was now looking at her. "I was very cross with her when she left before I woke up. I once told Maester Luwin that I would never speak with her." Tears rolled down Bran's eyes, and Arya's resolve started breaking down on seeing them. She awkwardly put her hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it Bran," she hastily put words in her sentences. "She will want you to be happy, and make her proud. Thinking about it won't benefit anyone."

Bran took a deep breath, and nodded. Nymeria returned to her after her leisurely prowl around the Godswood, and laid besidethem. Bran's eyes turned to Nymeria.

"How is she?"

"Fine, I guess. Nothing happened to her," Arya replied uncertainly.

Bran kept looking at Nymeria's eyes. "What else is troubling you Bran?"

"Arya," he said. "Has there been anything unusual about Nymeria lately?"  
"No," Arya exclaimed. "Why has there," she asked, and her panicked gaze turned to Nymeria. She looked normal, gazing at her with her yellow eyes.

"No, no," Bran replied. "But if anything happens, please do tell me."

"What is wrong," Arya asked. "Has there been something something wrong with Summer." Arya looked at him, and the answere was in his eyes. "There has been," she inferred. "What happened?"

"It is none of your business," Bran snapped at her. Arya was taken aback. "Oh I am sorry," she retorted. "It seems that showing concerns for some person earns them his scolding."

Bran kept looking at her with desperate eyes, and suddenly he called Hodor to carry him to his chambers. Arya promised herself to have Maester Luwin check over Bran and Summer.

"Come Nymeria," she called her pet, and she too started making her way out of Godswood.

* * *

"What is your business in the Iron Isles," the Captain asked. Theon was on his way to Pyke on a ship boarded from Seaguard. The Captain however, was proving out to be a giant pain in the ass.

Getting to Seaguard was an easy task, even with men looking around for you. All you need was good headstart, a swift horse and discretion.

He had shaved his beard and and cut his hair, and now wore clothes from the peasant's house he had robbed. That was enough to fool the dumb Starks.

"Visiting my cousin. He lives at Old Wyk," Theon replied.

"Then why go to Pyke," the Captain asked.

"What are you, my mother," Theon snapped. "I have some business at Pyke."

"You reek of trouble boy," the Captain remarked. "I will push you off this ship if you friends allow it. What is your name again, remind me?"

"Rodrick," Theon replied. "Rodrick Hill."

* * *


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**Race for the Rose**

"This is too much. I won't be needing this," father said in refusal pointing at the bronze circlet resting in a case. It was brought fresh forged from the smithy of Riverrun by Lord Galbart Glover and Lord Ryswell.

"A King needs a crown your grace. Ancient Kings of Winter used to wear a crown like this," the GreatJon counselled. Robb had not forgotten that the GreatJon was the first to declare father the King in the North, and he was doing everything in his power to promote this revoked monarchy. Father accepted the Crown, and placed it on his head. Robb had to admit, his father with a crown on his head was a truly impressive sight to behold.

"What news of Greyjoy," father asked Jon Umber.

"Still missing," GreatJon sighed. "If the gods are good, he is feeding the trout of the Red Fork as we speak."

"He is not. Theon knows how to swim," Robb replied. "We need him father. We need him to bring justice for my lady mother."

"Aye, he deserves to die," father spoke, and suddenly he looked very tired. "Even under the conditions my wife died. But his capture would mean more than justice." Father turned to the GreatJon. "Theon Greyjoy was our hostage. I took him from his father 9 years ago to make sure that Balon Greyjoy doesn't cook up some other mischief. If Theon somehow makes it back to Pyke, who knows what that man and his infernal brother Victarion would plan." Father turned towards the fireplace, and gazed deep at the glowing ambers. "Daven Lannister is raising another host in the Westerlands at Oxcross, though I won't worry much about it. They are mostly small folk and are unblooded. Most of them wouldn't even have ever held a sword in their arms. The Greyjoys might decide to set sail and plunder Casterly Rock and Lannisport, which are both so ill manned. But then, so is the North."

The GreatJon seemed to understand the graveness of the situation. "Our men will find that little squid Ned. They will bring back his head to you," the GreatJon said.

"Bring him alive," father replied. "I will think about what to do with him."

Everyone nodded in consent. Father spoke again, "we are done for now Lord Umber. Before you retire to your chambers, I have several tasks for you. You will send men out this night to keep raiders from the fields. Send ravens to the Rills, Flint FIngers, Bear Island and Deepwood Motte to be on guard for Ironborn attacks. Also send another to Lord Tallhart at Winterfell to arrange for men to guard the Stony Shore and the Rills," father commanded GreatJon, who gave a bow, stole a glance at Lord Glover and left the chamber.

"Lord Ryswell, you are to assemble 1000 of our best fighting men and go to Seaguard, from where you will sail up the Saltspear to Moat Calin. You will take the command of Moat Calin with those men. Once there, be on guard for ships coming up the Saltspear. Build palisades as soon as you reach there. Go now."

"At once your grace," Lord Ryswell left the tent.

Robb started to go out when father stopped him, "Where are you going?"

"I am going to see Grey Wind."

Father gave a smile. Grey Wind had torn down dozens of Lannister men at the Battle of the Camps. "That can wait. Stay here."

Father took off the Crown, and handed it to Robb. "Put this thing away," he said. "The more I'll wear it, the more it will hurt my already aching skull."

Robb put the Crown on the dresser, and that was when he noticed the runes on its iron swords. He picked it up again and started examining it again. The smith here had to be really crafty. He knew little about the runes and symbols of the first men, yet he had carved them to perfection. Robb wondered what had happened to the original crown, which Torrhen Stark surrendered to Aegon the Dragon all those years ago.

"Any news about Jon," father asked.

"None," Robb replied. His half brother had gone missing after his visit to Dragonstone. After investigation, their men heard some talk of a ship gone missing in the narrow sea, but everyone denied the possibility of a ship wreck, owing to the strength of the newly built vessel. Pirates were their second suggestion, much to his and father's dismay.

Father shook his head, his lips pursued. There was silence in the chamber for a while, when father spoke again. "This is folly," he said in irritation. "Utter folly!"

"What father," Robb asked, disturbed by his father's tone. "Your being king is a good thing for all of us. Everyone knows that you are the most just man in the Seven Kingdoms." Glover nodded in approval.

"Don't think stupid Robb. Aye, there have been Kings in the North in the past, and I am proud that my lord bannermen thought me worthy of the title. But what about Riverrun? These Riverlords are calling me King of the Trident?"

"You saved them from the Lannisters your grace," Lord Glover said. "You saved Riverrun from sack and surrender, for which the Riverlords are grateful. They don't trust the King on the Throne, or the one claiming it from afar. You are the one they want to rule over them."

"I can't even think of proper terms to send to Cersei and Joffrey," father continued. "What will I ask them, give me my own Kingdom from the Wall to the Trident, and have your brother in return. They may accept it at first, but I know these Lannisters better than that. The moment we march up the neck, Tywin Lannister will attack the Riverlands again, this time from both west and the south, for now they'll be having a 'righteous' task of reuniting the Kingdoms. Even if the Riverlands are well manned, they won't be able to match a full scale invasion. What will we do then Robb, march down the Neck again? Before Aegon the dragon, the Riverlands were ruled by House Hoare of the Iron Islands, which did it quite well because of the proximity of the two areas."

"Why not divide the Kingdom," Lord Glover suggested. "Lord Edmure can be King of the Trident, and you can be of the North. Let the Tullys care about these lands."

"Don't be daft," father rebuked. "That won't stop the Lannisters from attacking, or us marching South to defend the Trident, and besides Edmure Tully is not fit to be a king. The Tullys are my close kin by marriage, and I can never leave them at the mercy of Lannisters. How will I defend this land from which I would be living far away, and which does not have any natural boundries? We have the Wall in the North, which will save us from the wildlings and the others if they come back to life again. In the South we have the Neck, which is the only reason that our Godswoods are still intact and we still keep the old faith. Will I have to build another Wall in the South?"

"We can build a wall," Robb said, "not a real one," when father gave him a queer look. "A wall of leverage. We will ask Joffrey and Cersei for Princess Myrcella in place of Ser Jaime. She can be our hostage."

"What about Stannis then? What if he triumphes over the Lannisters? You can't ask him for anything Robb. That man is cast iron made human. He'll break before he bends," something in the way father said it sent a chill in his spine.

"What about alliances," Robb asked uncertainly.

Father appeared to be thinking on this. "The only Kingdoms open for that are the Reach, the Vale and Dorne. Doran Martell despises me, for the fact that I fought with Robert. There is no better chance with the Tyrells. Mace Tyrell is a fool, who counts the Seige of Storm's End as one of his successful accompolishments; and Eyrie, well, you how it is. I have good friends in Bronze Royce and Waynewood. But I don't think they will march to aid me and defy their liege lord."

"We have received word from Prince Oberyn Martell." That caught father's attention for real. "He is marching north with 8,000 spears and bows to join with us. He writes that in return he wants only vengeance." That reduced some of the tension on father's face. "You are the King in the North father," Robb quipped, "you have the whole might of the North and the Trident behind you, and now a part of Dornish force too. And the Lannisters, the Westerlands are all about their gold now. Their men and their numbers won't match ours in any way now, after what happened at the Green Fork and here at Riverrun."

"You say it yourselves, they are mostly about money. If they don't have men to put on field, they will buy men from the free cities or some other place."

"It may be so, but for now you have the upper hand," Galbart Glover said. "You are perhaps the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms right now, even without the Iron Throne backing you. You deserve every inch of that power your grace. You have a righteous cause to fight for, along with strength of men. Write to Highgarden and propose an alliance."

"The Tyrells are a wealthy family. What would you have me offer them," father asked.

"There had been Kings of the Reach before Aegon Targaryen. Offer Mace Tyrell monarchy over the Reach, and vouch for their protection against Lannisters and Stannis, and make them do the same. You have a lot more to offer your grace. For instance, the young lad standing beside you," Lord Glover was pointing at Robb. "It's not too early for you Prince Robb. You should take a wife." Robb turned to father, who was looking bewildered, yet he seemed to accept the suggestion.

* * *

"It is in the best interest of everyone my dear Joff," Cersei tried to convince the little shit again. Honestly, Tyrion thought that she had accomplished a lot by bringing Joffrey to the small council chamber. "What does Margery Tyrell not have that Sansa Stark possess. She comes from a wealthier family, which will make an ally of worth."

"Are we still on that mother," the King seemed bored.

"Yes," Cersei was giving a fake cheery disposal. Tyrion kept on looking at the whole exchange with amusement. "It is a matter of importance son. We have lost the battle near Ruby Ford, and your uncle is a captive at Riverrun."

"That does not mean that I will not keep my father's word. He didn't say a word about breaking my betrothal with the Stark girl. It was Ned Stark's treason."

"I know my king. I know," Grand Maester spoke for the first time. "The Gods do hold the betrothal solemns. But your royal father made the pact before the Starks revealed their true nature and defied him. I consulted with the High Septon.."

"I call the high septon a fat idiot," Joffrey raised his voice. "A word is a word. No true King breaks what he once says. The Northerners will have to follow all of the terms I sent them."

Tyrion wanted to laugh out loud, but he knew better than that. And besides, despite how much amusing it seemed, this was as bad a news for him as it was for Cersei. Stannis Baratheon won't spare Tyrion should he attack and take the City.

"Nephew if I may," Tyrion spoke. "If I recall correctly, you said to Ned Stark in that letter that you yourself will lead the assault on Winterfell in case Ned Stark defies you. But here you sit in the Capital, scolding your grandfather and uncle for losing their battles. What kind of word keeping is that?" Tyrion still found it hard to believe that his lord father had lost to Karstarks.  _Perhaps Tywin Lannister is not as invincible as they claim him to be._

Cersei scowled, yet she remained silent. Right then the more important task was to convince the King. Joffrey glowered at Tyrion. "Someone has to stay and make sure that things go rightly here." Tyrion decided not to argue back.

"It is decided Joffrey," Cersei said in a commanding tone. As much as she tried, she could not be the same to her children, especially Joffrey, as she was to all others, and her 'commanding tone' failed her beautifully. "I am sending Lord Baelish to Highgarden as our envoy. He will propose a match between you and the Tyrell girl, or at least an alliance."

"Have it your way," Joffery yawned. "But I already told you whom I will marry. Don't expect anything from me."

For everyone, this response from Joffrey was as close to his consent as it could ever be. "Good," Cersei smiled. "This meeting is over."

"No it is not," Tyrion interrupted.

"Not?"

"Why send Lord Baelish dear sister? Don't you know that father commanded him to be at least under custody? His first suggestion was execution."

Suddenly Joffrey was very interested. "He will not be imprisoned." Cersei's voice was commanding as well as defiant. "Petyr Baelish is the only one who does actual work in the Small Council. His establishments bring revenue to the city."

"Have it your way sister. But don't come back lashing at me when this turns out to be another of your follies."

Joffrey puffed up at his uncle. "Who would you me send then," Cersei asked. "You?"

"Not me," Tyrion felt himself smile. "I am needed here to rule the Kingdoms as the King's hand. If you had kept Barristan Selmy in service, he would have been my first choice. He lends honor to the cause of every man he serves."

"You didn't answer my question Tyrion," Cersei interrupted, her eyes boring into him. "Whom, should, I, send?"

Tyrion sighed, defeated. "Baelish. Send Petyr Baelish."

* * *

 As he laid on a senile straw mattress in the musty cabin Jon kept watching the geckos on the wooden walls, fighting over a dead spider.  _Lucky bastards, fighting for what they want._  Jon couldn't say the same for himself, as he had not been able to fight for anything he valued in the last one month or so, every chance he seemed to have gotten. 'There was no worse feeling than hurt self respect and lost dignity,' father had once told him. Now Jon knew that it was true indeed.

The day started with a brutal flogging from the 'masters', a title his captors wanted Jon and the others to address them as. The beatings resumed if the masters caught even a whiff of rebellion or error, and sometimes just for the fun of it. 'Shaping' they called it, as if talking about moulding steel to suit their needs.

 _It is working though._ From what he had seen, it was clear that the 'masters' wanted to beat it into them that they were no better than vermin, and were born to be their slaves. Most had submitted already, choosing to accept their new fate.

Yet Jon had decided not to lose his spirit to these 'masters', for as long as possible. He was half a Stark himself. Starks had faced the Northern winter for centuries, and what were a few clubbings and lashes in front of the Northern winter, when the winds blew so cold that they could freeze the life out of entire towns and castles, winter which could kill Lords and peasants alike in a heartbeat. He wouldn't give up that easily as his fellow captives had given up.

Jon silently followed the masters' orders, suffered their beatings, and did the chores. But deep in his mind he always remembered who he was. He was Jon Snow, son of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, a bastard of the North, and the North remembers.

* * *


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**Sowers and Reapers**

* * *

"Father," Theon greeted as soon as he caught a glimpse of Balon Greyjoy in the dark dank chamber. His father was sitting on his chair facing towards the fireplace, opposite to Theon.

"They took a frightened boy," he said without turning. "What have they given back?"

"They did not give me to you. I escaped."

"Because you were afraid that Stark will snip your neck for killing his wife."

There was an awkward silence. Theon could've retorted back, but thought against it.

"Stark had you longer than I did," his father spoke from his chair, still not turning to look at his only son.

"And whose fault is that," Theon threw back.

Balon Greyjoy finally turned towards him, and scanned him up and down. "You won't use that tone with me. This isn't Winterfell."

"Oh," Theon looked around in mock surprise. "Sorry. The sea and the barren lands must have fooled me."

Balon Greyjoy finally stood up. He walked towards him, and gave Theon a hard stare. Theon returned the stare with all his vigor.

"Pretty looking doublet," his father yanked at his clothes. "How did you pay for it. Gold or iron?"

Talk with the fellow sailors had reminded him all about the old ways of the Ironborn. "Iron," Theon rasped, confidence gleaming from his eyes.

Balon's eyes widened. "It  
is good to see that Eddard Stark has not made you his daughter. You show signs of an Ironborn. I'll give you that," he spoke. "But that doesn't mean that you can prance around here and announce your return. Here a man gets what he earns."

Theon was already made aware of that from the talks he had heard from the Ironborn sailors, and the fact that no one seemed to recognize him in his own homeland had cemented the fact in his mind.

"I will earn glory father," Theon said. "And soon the world will know what Balon Greyjoy's son is made of."

"We shall see," his father said. "Go and rest. We will talk later."

After a few hours Theon was summoned to his father again. There he found him along with his uncle Aeron, whom Theon had already met, along with one men and a woman.

Even after such a long time, Victarion Greyjoy the Iron Captain was still recognizable in his plate armor, which he wore even when he set sail. The woman must be Asha. The inference came before the observations. She had changed a lot, and was now a woman grown.

"It's time you hear the plans Theon," Victarion said without a hint of greeting.

"I am all ears."

"The lion and his cub have gone east," his father spoke, "with the entirety of their army. While they are gone, the West is ripe for the taking."

Theon's stomach gave a jolt. "The gold mines of the West would be a pretty prize."

"This time we will claim more than their gold," his sister spoke. "We will take their lands and castles. God I have always wanted a Castle."

"You will have one," his father spoke. "You will take 30 ships to Crakehall."

Asha smiled a wicked smile. "Victarion," father addressed Theon's uncle. "You are to take your fleet to Lannisport, and reave as you wish. Lay siege on Casterly Rock. It won't give by storm. Don't worry about Tywin Lannister ruining your party. The wolves won't allow him to pass."

"What's my role in all this," Theon asked.

 

* * *

"Sally, drink the potion or the Stranger will take you," Willem tried the old trick which he had been using on his daughter since she was three. She was suffering from a severe cold.

"No, the Stranger won't hurt me," she replied cheekily. Willem smiled at his daughter. He was a peasant, and had his fields near Ashemark. He didn't have much, but was content with his life. His fields were fertile enough, he had a beautiful and witty wife, and a lovely daughter.

"Drink the potion or the Mountain will make you his wife," Willem shot back. This time the trick worked, and his little girl drank the potion without a word of protest. Evidently the monsters in reality were scarier than the monsters in fairy tales.

Sally cringed at the taste, which again made Willem smile. Smile came easily on his face these days. The Lannister war had brought peace to his lands, as that meant all the raiders here had gone with Lord Tywin to join his army. Often in the days before the war, raiders claiming to be 'Mountain's men' used to come to his lands and demand gold and other resources. Whatever was denied them, they used to take by force. A complaint was often made to the high lords, but it always fell on deaf ears. Willem had learned a long time ago how to keep these men happy. He saved some of his belongings every month for them, and they were pleased with him for that.

Tasha walked in. She had just arrived after taking a bath. Her yellow hair were still wet and were clinging to her face, and her eyes were sparkling. Gods she was beautiful, and had never ceased to be for him, from the day he had set his eyes on her. Willem had never been able to figure out how a simpleton like him ended up with a woman like her.

"About time you drank that thing," she said cheekily as she walked to her daughter, and pulled her cheek lovingly. "It is only for your own good."

"I had no other choice," Sally replied glumly.

"Yes," Willem put in hastily. He knew Tasha wouldn't approve of the way Willem had made Sally drink her medicine.

Suddenly there was a rapping on the door. Willem turned towards his wife. "Who can it be," he asked.

His question was left unanswered when the door of his house was thrown off its hinges with a crash. Sally shrieked.

A man in chainmail walked in. He addressed Willem," you are to come with us."

Willem was puzzled. "Why," he asked. "I didn't do anything."

"You are to join Lord Tywin's army to fight the Starks."

"I am no soldier," Willem protested, still appalled by the broken door and the rude tone. "I am a peasant. Who are you?"

"Rafford," he replied, "though I prefer Raff the Sweetling". He covered the distance between him and Willem, and yanked Willem up forcefully.

"Wait," Willem cried, struggling against the muscular Rafford as he dragged him out of the house, fully aware of his wife's and daughter's shrieks. "I can't leave. My daughter is sick. She needs me."

"Do you think I give a shit?"

Tasha seemed to have found her courage. "Wait you can't," she shouted. She rushed forwards and pulled at Rafford's arm.

Rafford's attention's turned towards his wife. He let go off of Willem, grabbed a handful of Tasha's dress and gave a hard pull. The dress gave away, and Tasha was bared from head to toe. She tried to hold onto her torn clothes, but the Lannister soldier stopped her. Unable to find anything to cover her shame, she hung her head low, tears falling down her eyes.

Willem's blood boiled. He gave a howl and charged at the soldier, but was thrown back by a powerful back handed slap of his gauntlet covered hand.

"I will kill you here," Rafford rasped towards Willem. "Then I will fuck the life out of your wife AND your daughter, and then feed you all to dogs; unless you be a good boy and come with me."

Willem stood up and spat blood from his mouth. There was no way in seven hells he could beat this man with his armor. Defeated and subdued, he walked out with Rafford, leaving his family behind.

Outside he found a mob of men being lined up by other Lannister soldiers, and their faces showed the same emotion which was boiling inside Willem.

Resentment.

* * *


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

**Stronger**

* * *

 

"Who am I speaking to," Mace Tyrell said. Robb and Lord Tytos Blackwood had reached the court of Highgarden, only to find an oafish man sitting on the lord's seat and the slimy Petyr Baelish speking on behalf of Joffrey. The announcer had already announced their names, yet Mace Tyrell insisted on hearing them again.

"Lord Tytos of the House Blackwood," Lord Blackwood cut in before Petyr Baelish could open his mouth to speak, "and Prince Robb Stark of Winterfell."

"My lord," Robb said, and gave a small bow.

"A prince who bows," Baelish remarked with amusement, and turned towards Lord Tyrell. "Clearly this one hasn't gotten used to being addressed as a Prince."

Robb's temper sparked, yet he replied calmly, "I stand before Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden, Warden of the South, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach." Robb turned towards Mace Tyrell, who was looking at Robb with bewilderment, mouth agap like a fish. "It is clear that my lord's assortment of titles makes mine look pale." This subdued Baelish. Robb touched his sword's handle which he was carrying on his waist, and prayed to the Gods that none of his nervousness showed on his face.

"As I was saying," Tytos Blackwood continued, "I and Prince Robb came to your home and hearth with a proposal my lord Tyrell."

"What is that proposal," Tyrell demanded.

"Best said in private my lord, especially because of the likes of the people you have in your hall right now." Tytos took a sideways glance towards Baelish.

"He names me despicable," Baelish spoke in his silk smooth voice, "yet he is the one who joined up with a traitor to rebelled against our good king Joffrey."

"I won't answer any of the questions raised by your vile toungue," Lord Blackwood spat.

"Then I will ask you the same question," the source of the voice was a small lady present in the court. Robb took some time in recognizing her. She was Lady Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns.

Lord Blackwood turned towards Lady Olenna. "My lady, it is a delight to look at you after such a long time."

"Spare me my lord. Until you justify your actions you riverlanders will all remain traitors in my eyes. So tell me, why did you rise up against King Joffrey."

"My lady, why would you want to hear a traitor ramble," Baelish spoke, and turned towards Mace, who was watching the exchange from his high seat. "They have come to include you and you kin in their treachery against the Iron Throne and King Joffrey Baratheon."

"Baratheon," Tytos smirked, "I call him Joffrey Lannister, or Joffrey Waters. They did not make a last name for an abomination like him."

"Wild allegations my lord," Baelish spoke.

"Silence both of you," Lady Olenna rebuked. Robb was perplexed by the commanding mother of the silent lord of Highgarden. "Now Lord Blackwood, explain yourself."

Tytos Blackwood was about to speak, but Robb silenced him by raising his hand. He looked straight in the eyes of the old woman, and the lady's eyes widened slightly.

"My lady," Robb began, thinking hard on the words he was about to put in his speech. "I am sent here by my father Eddard Stark, King of the North and the Trident, with Lord Blackwood here as my councilor and escort. If anyone should justify the cause of our actions, it should be me." Robb spoke about Bran's fall, mishap at the Trident, abduction of the Imp and butchery in the Riverlands, House Stark joining the war and the Crowning of his father. The whole of the court heard Robb speak in rapt attention.

"Very well Robb of House Stark," Lady Olenna spoke. "Now Lord Baelish, what do you have to say for yourself and the Iron Throne."

Lord Baelish spoke in a subtle manner. Robb didn't fail to make out the offers made to the Tyrells, hidden craftily in his well chosen words. He also took time in mentioning the Northern alliance with Prince Oberyn Martell. The little birds of Varys were good.

"My lord Tyrell," Robb spoke, and the slight uproar about Oberyn joining the Starks subsided. "You son Ser Loras has declared for us, and has pledged his sword to my great uncle Brynden Tully. Petyr Baelish here offers him a place in the Kingsguard, but I know him better than that. He is a knight, and he won't give up his word for any pretty white cloak offered to him. As for Prince Oberyn, let me tell you that Dorne still remains neutral in this war. It is only Prince Oberyn who wishes to join us, for the fact that he wants to avenge his sister Elia. He fights only for vengeance, and wishes to return back to Sunspear after the war is over."

Robb let the words sink in, and then spoke again, "as for the marriage proposal, let me make you aware that the 'good King' Joffrey has been asking for my sister Sansa to be shipped to him, so that she can marry him and become his. He threatens to kill my father if he doesn't do so. Would you want your daughter to marry such a person. Lord Baelish talks of a place in the Small Council, my father has something far better to offer." He produced a parchment and extended it towards Lord Tyrell, but Lady Olenna insisted that it should be given to her. She broke the direwolf seal of Stark, and unrolled the document. She read it, and read it again, and then turned towards Robb. "I see," she spoke in a low voice, and scanned Robb up and down.

Robb felt compelled to speak. He drew his sword from the scabbard, and the steel shone in the dim light. "The word of a Stark is worth all the gold in Casterly Rock. Join us my lords of Tyrell. Become kings of all the Reach, and we vouch for your protection from all our vile enemies."

"My lords," Baelish spoke. "The Iron Throne is the only monarchial power in Westeros, has been for 300 years. We all know what happened to those who tried to usurp the power."

"Aye, one of them became King, and established House Baratheon of King's Landing. You are only making my point Lord Baelish," Robb chuckled. "The Targaryen dynasty and the Iron Throne were both forged by dragon fire. Even while sitting in the Red Keep, false kings won't be able to make us follow them, unless they break us by using dragon fire."

"Lord Baelish is right," Mace Tyrell seemed afraid. "The King on the Iron Throne is the only King in Westeros."

"Shut up Mace," Lady Olenna snapped. She addressed Robb. "You ask for my granddaughter's hand in marriage. My Margerry was raised in all the comforts of the Reach. Do you think we will send her to the cold dank place you call home. We all have heard of where Lysenne Hightower ended up."

This time Tytos Blackwood spoke, "my lady, the Mormonts are a poor family, and the marriage between Jorah Mormont and the Hightower girl was not a wise decision. Your daughter on the other hand will marry the Crown Prince of the North and the Riverlands, and will one day become the Queen of the North. That boy who sits on the Iron Throne still wants Princess Sansa Stark for his wife, and Baelish here is making false promises to you. Joffrey has only the Lannisters backing him. Prince Robb is an honorable man grown, has already fought and won battles. He is an accompolished scholar and ruler, and is loved by on and all in the North and the Riverlands. He is truly worthy match for your granddaughter."

"I understand it well," Lady Olenna said, and walked towards her son on the high seat. "Congratulations Lord Tyrell, you will soon be King of the Reach."

* * *

"Surrounded by usurpers I am," Stannis spoke, with the Red woman watching him intently. "I can't defeat Ned Stark with my numbers, and without defeating him I can't take the Iron Throne."

"You will defeat them all my King. I saw it in the flames," Melissandre spoke, "but first you must give yourself to the Lord of Light."

"I said the words damn you," Stannis rasped, "I burned the idols."

"You must give all of yourself," she said seductively, and undid her robe.

Stannis watched her lustily, tracing his vision from her lush and supple breasts, her toned abdomen to the red tuft of hair between her legs. Then abruptly he turned his gaze away. All of a sudden Stannis Baratheon looked very afraid, like a child caught in the act of stealing food.

"I have a wife," he gasped, "I took a vow."

"She is sick, weak and disgusts you. She has given you no sons. Only stillborns." She ran her fingers through his hair and whispered to him, her warm breathe striking his ear. "I will give you a son."

* * *

Sansa watched Lady Hornwood intently as she left Winterfell with her men, and prayed that the gods never make anyone see days she was experiencing. Her lord husband and son were dead, and the other lords were looking hungrily at her and her lands, with some extrovertly asking her for her hand in marriage with their bawdy proposals.

Lady Hornwood's talk about Ramsay Snow had been giving her nightmares lately. She had talked to Lord Tallhart about it. "There is no definte proof against him princess," he said in reply.

The harvest feat went well. Sansa was in charge of the feast, and was proud of herself that everything worked out well. Watching her mother plan the earlier feasts of Winterfell had helped a lot.

After seeing the last of the Stark bannermen out, Princess Sansa Stark walked back to her chambers and fell on her bed, and sleep engulfed before she knew it.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

**New beginnings**

* * *

 

There she was, approaching him with her cousins.  _So she is to be my wife,_ Robb thought, and thanked the gods fiercely. She looked lovely, with her soft brown curls, big eyes and womanly figure.

Robb had always known that girls found him desirable, even without his highborn status. He had grown up being approached by several northern lords and their daughters, and the reply given by father was that Robb was too young for a betrothal (though he clearly wasn't). Having being around Northern ladies throughout his life, Robb had always had a fascination about Southern girls, and a beauty like Margaery Tyrell approaching him instantly made him very uncomfortable.

"My prince," she greeted, and bowed in courtesy.

"My lady," Robb himself gave a small bow, making Margaery's cousins giggle.

"I hope you are comfortable in Highgarden. We hardly have any Northern guest here."

"Highgarden is a delight my lady, just like you," Robb felt his cheeks heating up. The cousins giggled again.

"Thank you my prince," she smiled the loveliest smile, making Robb turn his eyes away slightly.

"Would you like to walk with me in the Rose garden," Robb asked eagerly, regaining his composure.

"Why sure my prince. I will be honored," she replied. Unlike Robb, she didn't appear the least bit uncomfortable; that made Robb even more unnerved.

"Please call me Robb my lady."

"Only if you call me Margaery."

"Done. Let's go now Margaery," Robb said. Margaery looked pointedly at her cousins, and they walked away.

Robb walked with her in the garden, thinking hard on what to say to her. He looked at her a couple of time, only to find her looking back at him with a smile, making him turn away instantly. Robb wanted to start a conversation, but his thrice damned mind couldn't come up with anything.

"So when do you think we will get married Robb," Margaery asked, finally breaking the silence.

"I don't know," Robb replied. "May be after the war settles down a bit."

"Really," she replied glumly. "I seriously doubt you will ever marry me Robb. You haven't spoken a word to me ever since we entered this garden. May be you find me ugly."

Robb was taken aback, he was about to shower Margaery with assurances regarding her beauty, but stopped himself on time. _Those are just words._  A lady with her beauty wouldn't need any sort of assurance about her looks, she would be aware of it herself. "No my lady. Only a fool would think so," he replied casually.

Margaery giggled, and bowed her head slightly in acceptance of Robb's compliment. "So how was it like, growing up in Highgarden," Robb asked.

She talked about Highgarden, the Mander river, her cousins and brothers, the fruit gardens and the streams. Robb kept listening intently, never once turning his gaze from her brown eyes. On being asked about his life in the North, he told her about Winterfell and its hot streams, his siblings, the hunts in the Wolfswood and horserides in the Barrowlands. Clearly her life was more interesting than Robb's, yet she kept listening intently as he spoke.

They returned back from the gardens to the Castle after few hours, where Robb bade farewell to his betrothed with a kiss on the top of her palm, and promised to meet her the next day. As he walked back to his chamber, Robb Stark looked around him, and suddenly found that life had become more beautiful than it used to be.

 

* * *

"Excellent news," Ned replied. The tidings from Highgarden were wonderful, and after a long time, Ned smiled a genuine smile.

"What now your grace," the GreatJon asked. "With the Tyrells on our side, the war is all but done. We should march on Harrenhal and break Tywin before his new host reaches him."

"The new host has already reached Harrenhal," Roose Bolton replied. "Harrenhal is well garrisoned and well provisioned. Marching on it would be unwise. I say we invade the Westerlands, and take their resources."

"Aye," Lord Bracken said. "Give them the taste of their own medicines."

Ned raised his hand, and everyone stopped talking. "When did our cause turn to raiding the Western peasants my lords? We came here to liberate the Riverlands, and now we are consolidating our new kingdom. How would invading the West help our cause?"

"That will scare Tywin your grace. He will be easier to bend," Lord Cerwyn said. "Lord Karstark has reformed his host on the Kingsroad, and is waiting for your command."

"Enough of this matter. It is for some other time. Any news from Storm's End?"

"We have got nothing from Lord Stannis after you refused to go to Storm's End to meet him. He threatened that refusal to bend the knee will mean your total destruction in the future," Roose Bolton spoke.

"Tell him again that I am not leaving Riverrun. If he wishes to parley he should come here or send someone else. Also tell him about the reasons we chose not to follow him. Stannis is a hard man. I won't take this threat lightly," Ned said. "That would be enough for now my lords. I say we call it a night".

Everyone bowed and left the chamber. Ned called for his squire.

"Elmar, isn't that your name," Ned asked curiously.

"Yes your grace," the boy replied timidly. Ned couldn't help but smile. "From now on I have a new task for you." He walked up to the massive sheath in which he kept Ice, the ancestral weapon of House Stark.

"Come here." The boy followed. "From today onwards you will polish this greatsword," he handed Ice to the boy, "with oil, till it gains its usual luster. Do you know how to polish swords?" Ned handed Ice to the boy.

"Yes my lord," he replied, tracing a finger lightly over the edge. "But do I have to do something different with Valyrian Steel?"

"No boy, you polish all the swords the same way. You must have done this in the Twins."

"Not really your grace," he said as he regarded Ice. "We mostly trained. The polishing was left for the servants. Gods, this is so light."

"It is Valyrian steel boy," Ned smiled. "Spellforged in ancient is light and never loses its age."

They were interrupted when they felt a sudden gust of wind in the chamber. "Did you feel that," the boy asked in alarm.

"Aye," Ned replied, perplexed. But what he saw next horrified him to no limits.

His shadow, his own shadow was moving on its own. It had unsheathed a dagger from its waist, while Ned still had the same dagger sheathed on his waist.

Ned saw the shadow approaching him, the dagger held high, and all of a sudden he couldn't move. He felt a dreadful pit in his stomach as he stood there paralysed, the way he felt during the Battle of the Trident.  _Witchcraft,_ he realized. This was socery, a shadow, symbol of darkness, of dread, of death. And if death was so strong, why not bow in front of it. _It might even be painless._

He felt his legs give away, and he stumbled backwards. The shadow had almost reached him.  _Almost there._

He heard a cry from beside him, a whistling sound of steel cutting air, and all of a sudden Ned's shadow was shrieking. Ice had cut it in half, and the shadow vanished after a moment after giving out one last blood curdling scream.

Ned kept looking at the spot where his shadow stood a few moments ago, thinking hard about what had happened in his chamber. The guards came busting into his room, alerted by the scream.

"Are you alright my lord," one of the guards offered him a hand. Ned took his hand, and stood up. "Call the maester, Lord Glover, the Blackfish and Ser Wendel now," Ned commanded his squire, who had fallen backwards after killing the shadow. He knew exactly who had done this.

 

* * *

"I won't do this father," Theon protested. "Anything but this."

"Are you scared of your old family Theon," Victarion Greyjoy asked Theon.

"Or have you grown fond of them," Asha squinted her eyes at Theon.

"I am not scared," Theon said, "nor do I love the Starks. I am just thinking smartly. The Northernerns hate me for killing their lady. Raiding the North is suicide, and Ned Stark won't spare your islands when he hears of this."

"That is none of your concern. I chose you to do this task because you are the one who know the best about the North and its castles, and you will know how to move without being noticed," his father replied, "Stark has defeated me earlier, but this time I will be prepared. This time Ned Stark will be on his own, without the fleets of Stannis or the Redwyne fleet. I will give you men and ships to accompolish the task. All you have to do is raid Winterfell, and bring its bouty and the eldest Stark girl, and be quick about it. Do this and prove that you are Ironborn, and I will reward you with Stark's girl. Refuse this task and forever be branded as a eunuch."

"You do realize that the North will now be prepared for us," Theon was desperately trying to find points to support his cause. "If you want to have me killed you can find more discrete ways."

"Silence," his father bellowed. "You will do this, or I will rip those Greyjoy robes from your body, and you will spend the rest of your worthless life as a fool."

"Why do you want me to do this," Theon asked, careful to express his exasperation in the question.

Balon Greyjoy looked straight in his eyes, and Theon felt the hair on the back of his neck rise up. "He killed my boys," his father spoke. "He rammed my gates, he broke my walls, he made me bend in front of that fool Robert. To top it all, he took my only living son away from me. I have remained silent for this long, but I have not forgotten." The chamber seemed to have gone very cold, it was evident from the faces of Victarion and Asha.

"I remember," father voice had turned to a whisper, "I always remember; and this time Ned Stark will pay for the humiliation he brought upon me. I will shame him in front of the world, and I will make him weep tears of blood for his precious daughter, like I wept for my sons."

Balon Greyjoy looked at Theon, "this task is tough, I agree. I also agree that it is partly to satisfy my desire for vengeance, but it also to restore our house's honor which was taken by Stark when he took you away from me. Who better to do it than you Theon?"

Theon looked around him, and all he saw were eyes hungering for consents, and eyes full of judgement in case of his father.

"I will do it father," Theon consented, "I will do anything you ask of me."

Balon smiled. "I have set various minor campaigns to raid the Crag, Ashemark and other places that lie on the shore of the Sunset Sea, you three have the most important tasks. I hope you won't fail me. Now go and prepare."

Theon and the others left the solar, and Theon wondered how his life has turned out in the past month. Earlier he was a Stark loyalist, now he was their enemy and was about to steal their daughter.

* * *


End file.
